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Out of his subjects: and we here dispatch
Vol. In that, and all things, will we fhew our duty.
(Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
Laer. My dread lord,
King. Have you your father's leave? what says Polonius?
Pol. He hath, my lord, by laboursome petition, Wrung from me my flow leave; and, at the laft, Upon his will I seal'd
hard consent. I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine ; (2)
(2) Take tby fair hour, Laertes, time be thine,
And tby fair Graces; Spend it at iby Will.] This is the Pointing in both Mr. Pope's Editions; but the Poet's Meaning is loft by it, and the Close of the Sentence miserably flattened. The Pointing, i have restored, is that of the best Copies; and the Sense this; “ You “ have my Leave to go, Inertes; make the faireft Uie you please of
your Time, and spend it at your Will with the fairest Graces you « are Master of."
And thy best graces fpend it at thy will.
[ Afide, King. How is it that the clouds ftill hang on you? Ham. Not so, my Lord, I am too much i'th sun.
Queen. Good Hamlet, caft thy nighted colour off,
Ham. Ay, Madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be,
Ham. Seems, Madam ? nay, it is; I know not seems :
As any the most vulgar thing to fense,
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet :
King. Why, 'tis a loving, and a fair reply ;
health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
(3) And with no less Nobility of Love,
Do I impart towards jour] But what does the King impart ? We want the Substantive governed of the Verb. The King had decared Hamlet his in mediate Succeffor ; and with that Declaration, he must mean, he imparts to him as noble a Love, as ever fond Father tendered to his own Son. I have ventured to make the Text conform with this Sense.
Manet Manet Hamlet.
Ham. Oh, that this too-too-folid Aeth would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd (4) His canon 'gainst felf-llaughter! O God! oh God! How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't ! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to feed ; things rank, and gross in nature, Poffers it merely. That it should come to this ! But two months dead! nay, not so much; not two; So excellent a King, that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, (5)
(4) Or thut the Everlasting bad not fix'd
His Cannon 'gains Self-Slaughter!) The Generality of the Edi: tions read thus, as if the Poet's Thought were, Or that the Almighty bad not planted bis Artillery, bis Resentment, or Arms of Vengeance, against Self-Murder. But the Word, which I restored to the Text, (and which was espoused by the accurate Mr. Hughes, who gave an Edition of this Play ;) is the Poet's true Reading. i. e. That be bad not refrain'd Suicide by bis express Law, and peremptory Prohibition. Miftakes are perpetually made in the old Editions of our Poet, be twixt those two Words, Cannon and Canon.
So loving to my Mother, That he permitted not the Winds of Heav'n
Visit her Face too roughly. ] This is a sophisticated Reading, copied from the Players in some of the modern Editions, for Want of Understanding the Poet, whose Text is corrupt in the old Impreffions: All of which that I have had the fortune to see, concur in reading;
-So loving to my Mother,
Vifit ber Face too roughly. Beleene is a Corruption without doubt, but not fo inveterate a one, but that, by the Change of a single Letter, and the Separation of two Words" mistakingly jumbled together, I am verily persuaded, I have retrieved the Poet's Reading. That be might not let c'en the Winds of Heav'n, &c,
That he might not let e'en the winds of heav'n
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus..
Ham. I am glad to see you Horatio,or I do forget myself?
Hor. The fame, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; l'll change that name with
you: And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio ? Marcellus !
Mar. My good lord
Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, Sir. But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?,
Hor. A truant difpofition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say fo; Nor Thall
do mine ear that violence,