which, perhaps, imparts additional solemnity to this impressive preparation for the appearance of the spectre.

c Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.] As exorcisms were usually pronounced by the clergy in Latin, the notion became current, that supernatural beings regarded only the addresses of the learned. In proof of this belief, Reed quotes the following from "The Night Walker" of Beaumont and Fletcher, Act II. Sc. 2, where Toby is scared by a supposed ghost, and exclaims,-"Let's call the butler up, for he speaks Latin, And that will daunt the devil."

the sledded Polacks-] The sledged Polanders; though it may be doubtful whether the original Pollax" was intended as the singular or plural: many editors read,

Polack."

With martial stalk he passed through our watch. HOR. In what particular thought to work, I know not;

But in the gross and scope of minet opinion,

This bodes some strange eruption to our state. MAR. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land?
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
What might be toward that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the
day:

Who is't that can inform me?

With one auspicious and one dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in
marriage,

In equal scale weighing delight and dole,—
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along:-for all, our thanks.
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
Or thinking by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleagued with the dream of his advantage,-
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.-
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting,
Thus much the business is:-we have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears

To business with the king, more than the scope Of these dilated articles allow.

Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty. COR., VOL. In that and all things will we show our duty.

KING. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.-
[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit; what is 't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice: what wouldst thou beg.
Laertes,

That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

lord,

LAER. Dread my Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation; Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,

And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. (3) KING. Have you your father's leave?-What says Polonius?

POL. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my

slow leave

By laboursome petition; and, at last,
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
I do beseech you, give him leave to go."
KING. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be
thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will!-
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-
HAM. [Aside.] A little more than kin, and less
than kind."

KING. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAM. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of fore'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes,* shows of grief, That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play: But I have that within which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. KING. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father: But, you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound, In filial obligation, for some term

d

To do obsequious sorrow: but to perséver,
In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 't is unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 't is a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father; for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And with no less nobility of love