Our fovereign procefs, which imports at full, The prefent death of Hamlet. Do it, England: my And thou muft cure me; 'till I know 'tis done, [Exit SCENE. A Camp, on the Frontiers of Denmark. For. Enter Fortinbras, with an Army. Gi O, Captain, from me, greet the Danish King,, Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras Claims the conveyance of a promis'd march Over his realm. You know the rendezvous. If that his Majesty would aught with us, We fhall express our duty in his eye, And let him know fo. Capt. I will do't, my Lord. For. Go foftly on. [Exit Fortinbras, with the Army Enter Hamlet, Rofincrantz, Guildenstern, &c. Ham. Good Sir, whofe powers are these? Capt. They are of Norway, Sir. Ham. How purpos'd, Sir, I pray you? Capt. The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras. Capt. Truly to speak it, and with no addition, to him. But what then shall we do with our own home chronicles? -They are exprefs, that the Danes never fet footing on our coaft till the 8th century. They infefted us for fome time in a piratical way, then made a descent and conquer'd part of the country: and about the year 800, King Egbert is faid to have fubmitted to a tribute, call'd Dane-gelt: a tax of 12d, on every hide of land through the whole nation. But our Authors differ about this Dane-gelt: whether it was a tax paid, to obtain good terms of the Danes; or levied by our Kings towards the charge of defences, to repel the invafions of the Danes I 6 We 4 We go to gain a little patch of ground, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole, A ranker rate, fhould it be fold in fee. Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. [cats, Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand du Will not debate the queftion of this ftraw; This is th' impofthume of much wealth and peace, Rof. Wil't pleafe you go, my Lord? Ham. I'll be with you ftrait, go a little before. Manet Hamlet. [Exeunt How all occafions do inform against me, That capability and god-like reason To ruft in us unus'd. Now whether it be Of thinking too precifely on th'event, (A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wifdom, (58) Sure, be that made us with fuch large discourse, oking before and after.] This is an expreffion purely Homeric; And again; Iliad. y. ver. 109. Iliado. ver. 250. · ὁ γὰρ δ ὅρα ΠΡΟΣΣΩ & ΟΠΙΣΣΩ. The fhort fcholiaft on the laft paffage gives us a comment, that very aptly explains our Author's phrafe. Συνετῷ γὰρ ἀνδρός ἐςι, τὰ μέλλοντα τοῖς γεγενημένοις αρμόζεσθαι, καὶ ἔτως ὁραν τα επόμενα. “ For it is the part of an understanding man to connect the reflection of events to "come with fuch as have pafs'd, and fo to foresee what fhall follow." This is, as our Author phrases it, looking BEFORE and AFTER. And And ever three parts coward :) I do not know Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means To do't. Examples, grofs as earth, exhort me ; Witness this army of fuch mafs and charge, Led by a delicate and tender Prince, To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot, To hide the flain? O, then, from this time forth, Queen. SCENE changes to a Palace. Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman. I Will not fpeak with her. Gent. She is importunate, Gent. She speaks much of her father; fays, fhe hears, The hearers to collection; they aim at it, Which Which as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Queen. To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is, It fpills itself, in fearing to be fpilt. Enter Ophelia diftracted. 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 his sandal shoon. [Singing. Queen. Alas, fweet lady; what imports this fong Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark. He's dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone; Queen. Nay, but Ophelia Oph. Pray you, mark. White his froud as the mountain fnow. Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord. Oph. Larded all with fweet flowers: King. How do ye, pretty lady? Oph. Well, God yield you! they fay, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! (59) King. (59) Well, God dild you !] i. e. Heaven reward you. We meet with this expreffion a little otherwise writ in Macbeth. Herein I teach you How you fhould bid God cyld us for our pains, But, King. Conceit upon her father. Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say 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 he rofe, and don'd his cloaths, and dupt the chamber door; Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more. King. Pretty Ophelia ! Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't. By Gis, and by S. Charity, Young men will do't, if they come toʼt, Quoth fhe, before you tumble me, You promis'd me to wed: So would I ha' done, by yonder fun, King. How long has fhe been thus ? bed. 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 counfel. 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 single spies, But in battalions. Firft, her father flain; But, in Antony, we have the phrafe in plain and genuine English, Tend me to-night two hours, I afk no more, And the Gods yield you for't! So, Sir John Grey, in a letter, in Afhmole's Appendix to his account of the Garter, Numb. 46. The King of his gracious Lordshipe, God yield. him, hafe chofen me to be owne of his brethrene of the Knights of the Gartier, |