S CENE V.

Changes to a Palace.

Enter Queen, and Horatio.

Queen. Will not fpeak with her.
I Hor. She is importunate,

Indeed, diftract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen. What would she have?

Hor. She fpeaks much of her father; fays, fhe hears,

There's tricks 'th'world; and hems, and beats her

heart;

Spurns enviously at ftraws; fpeaks things in doubt, That carry but half fenfe. Her fpeech is nothing, Yet the unfhap'd ufe of it doth move,

The hearers to collection; they aim at it,

And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which as her winks, and nods, and geftures yield

them,

Indeed would make one think, there might be thought, Tho' nothing fure, yet much unhappily.

9 'Twere good fhe were fpoken with, for fhe may

ftrow

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in.

[Exit. Hor,

9 'Twere good she were spoken

with, Thefe lines are given to the Queen in the folio, and to Horatio in the quarto. I have followed Hanmer's regulation.

To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is,
Each Toy feems prologue to fome great
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,

It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt.

Amifs

Enter Horatio, with Ophelia, distracted.

Oph. Where is the beauteous Majefty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia ?

Oph. How Should I your true Love know from another

one ?

By his cockle hat and staff, and by his fandal fhoon.

[Singing.

Queen. Alas, fweet lady; what imports this Song?
Oph. Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.

He's dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone;
At his bead a grafs-green turf, at his heels a ftone.
O ho!

Enter King.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia.
Oph. Pray you, mark.

By his cockle hat and flaff, and by his fandal hoon. ] This is the defcription of a pilgrim. While this kind of devotion was in favour, love-intrigues were carried on under that mask. Hence the old ballads and novels made pilgrimages the fubjects of their plots. The cockle-fhell

hat was one of the effential badges of this vocation: for the chief places of devotion being beyond fea, or on the coafts, the pilgrims were accustomed to put cockle-fhells upon their hats, to denote the intention or perform. ance of their devotion.

WARBURTON.

White bis fhroud as the mountain fnow.

Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.

Oph Larded all with fweet flowers
Which bewept to the Grave did
With true love Showers.

King. How do ye, pretty lady?

2

what we God be at

Oph. Well, God 'ield you! They fay, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know are, but we know not what we may be. your table!

King. Conceit upon your father.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, fay you this:

To-morrow is St. Valentine's day,

All in the morn betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.

Then up be rofe, and don'd his cloaths,
3 And dupt the chamber door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.

King. Pretty Ophelia !

Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end

on't.

2 the owl was a baker's daughter.] This was a metamorphofis of the common people, arifing from the mealy appearance of the Owl's feathers, and her guarding the bread from mice. WARB.

3 And dupt the chamber door ;] To dup, is to do up; to lift the latch. It were eaty to write,

And op'd―

4 By Gis, and by St. Charity,
Alack, and fy for shame!

Young men will do't, if they come to't,
By cock, they are to blame.
Quoth fhe, before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed:

So would I ba' done, by yonder fun,
And thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long has the been thus ?

Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot chufe but weep, to think, they fhould lay him i' th' cold ground; my brother fhall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach. Good night, ladies; good night, fweet ladies; good night, good night. [Exit. King. Follow her clofe, give her good watch, I pray [Exit Horatio. This is the poifon of deep grief; it fprings

you.

All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude!
When forrows come, they come not fingle fpies,
But in battalions. First, her father flain;
Next your Son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own juft Remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholefom in their thoughts and whifpers
For good Polonius' death; We've done but greenly,
In hugger mugger to interr him; poor Ophelia,

Divided from herfelf, and her fair judgment;
Without the which we're pictures, or mere beafts:
Laft, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in fecret come from France;
7 Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With peftilent fpeeches of his father's death;
8 Wherein neceffity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing ftick our perfons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death!

[A noife within. Queen. Alack! what Noife is this?

SCENE VI.

Enter a Messenger.

King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

What is the matter?

Mef Save yourself, my Lord.

The ocean, over-peering of his lift,

7 Feeds on his wonder,-] The the connection. Wherein, that