mind's eye,

We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Ham. I pr’ythee do not mock me, fellow-student; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding. .

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ; the funeral bak'd meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would, í had met my dearest foe in heav'n, ..
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio !
My father-methinks I see my father.

Hor. Oh where, my lord ?
Ham. In my

Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly King.

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I Mall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think, I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?
Hor. My lord, the King your father."
Ham. The King my father!
Hor. Season your admiration but a while,
With an attentive ear; 'till I deliver
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encountred: A figure like your father, Arm'd at all points exa&ly, Cap-à-pe, Appears before them, and with solemn march Goes flow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd, By their opprest and fear-surprised eyes, Within this truncheon's length; whilst they (distillid Almost to jelly * with th' effect of fear) Stand dumb, and speak not to him.

This to me

-with the ad of fear] Shakespear could never write so improperly as to call the Passion of Fear, the A&t of Fear. Without doubt the true Reading is, -with th' effe& of fear.

In dreadful secrecy-impart they did,
And I with tbem the ihird night kept the watch ;
Where, as they had deliver'd both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your father:
These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?
Hor. My lord, upon the Platform where we watcht.
Ham. Did you not speak to it ?

Hor. My lord, I did;
But answer made it none; yet once, methought,
It lifted

up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak :
But even then the morning-cock crew loud ;
And at the found it shrunk in hafte away,
And vanisht from our fight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, iny honour'd lord, 'tis true ;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?

Both. We do, my lord. Harr. Arm'd, say you? Both., Arm'd, my lord. Ham. From top to toe ? Both. My lord, from head to foot. Ham. Then saw you not his face ? Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Ham. What, look'd he frowningly ? Hor. A count'nance more in sorrow than in anger. Ham. Pale, or red ? : Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. And fixt his eyes upon you? Hor. Moft constantly. Ham. I would I had been there! Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. Ham. Very like; ftaid it long?

Hor.

Hor. While one with moderate hafte might tell a

hundred.
Both. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw't.
Ham. * His beard was grill'd ? no.

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable Glyer'd.
Ham. I'll watch to-night ; perchance, 'twill walk

again.
Hor. I warrant you, it will.

Ham. If it aflume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, tho hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If

you have hitherto conceal'd this fight,
+ Let it be ten'ble in

your silence ftill :
And whatsoever shall befall to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue ;
I will requite your loves: so, fare ye well.
Upd the platform 'twixt eleven and .twelve
I'll
All. Our duty to your Honour.

[Exeunt.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you : farewel.
My father's Spirit in arms! all is not well:
I 'doubt some foul play: 'would, the night were

come!
'Till then fit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise
(Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them) to men's eyes.

[Exit. * His beard was grisly?] The old Quarto reads,

His Beard was grill'd ? no. And this is right. A noble Mode of Interrogation in Hamlet's Circumstances.

† Let it be treble in your silence still :] If treble be right, in propricty it should be read,

Let it be treble in your filence now.
But the old Quarto reads,

Let it be Tonable in your filence ftill.
And this is righio

SCENE

MA

S CE NE V.
Changes to an Apartment in Polonius's House.

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
Laer. Y necessaries are imbark'd, farewel ;

And, fister, as the winds give benefit,
And Convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.

Oph. Do you doubt That?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, tho sweet, not lasting; The perfume, and suppliance of a minute; No more

Oph. No more but so?

Laer. Think it no more:
For Nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but, as this Temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now;

And now no soil of cautel doth besmerch
The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own :
For he himself is subject to his Birth ;
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The fafety and the health of the whole State:
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd.
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
Whereof he's head. Then, if he says, he loves you,
It fits your wisdom fo far to believe it,
As he in his peculiar act and place
May give his Saying deed; which is no further,

* And now no foil, nor cautel,] From cautela, which fignifies only a prudent Foresighi or Caution; but, palling thro’ French Hands, it lost its Innocence, and now fignifies Fraud, Daceit. But I believe Shakespear wrote, And now no soil of cautel

Warb.

Than

*

Than the main voice of Denmark

goes

withal.
Then weigh, what loss your Honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you lift his songs;
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep within the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes;
The canker galls the Infants of the Spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blaftments are most imminent.
Be wary then, best safety lies in fear;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Oph. I shall th' effects of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Shew me the steep and thorny way to heaven ;
* Whill, he a puft and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own reed.
Laer. Oh, fear me not.

S CE N E VI.

Enter Polonius.
I stay too long; but here

my

father comes :
A double Blefling is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard for Mame;
The wind fits in the shoulder of your sail,

* Whilft, like a puft and careless libertine,] This Reading gives us a Sense to this Effe&, Do not you be like an ungracious Preacher, who is like a careless Libertine. The old Quarto reads Whiles a puft and reckless Libertine, which direås us to the right Reading, Whilst he a

Warb. puft and reckless Libertine.