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That from a fhelf the precious Diadem stole
And put it in his pockets
Queen. No more.

Enter Ghost.
Ham. A King of freds and patches
Save me! and hover d'er me with your wings,

[Starting up: You heav'nly guards! what would your gracious figure?

Queen. Alas, he's made

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and paflion, let's ge by
Th' important acting of your dread command?
O fay!

Ghost. Do not forget : this vifitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look! amazement on thy mother fits;
O ftep between her and her fighting foul :
Conceit in weakest bodies frongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.
Ham. How is it with you, Lady?

Queen. Alas, how is't with you?
That thus

you
bend

your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourfe?
Forth at your eyes your fpirits wildly peep,
And, as the fleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Start up, and stand on end. - gentle fong, 14 godt
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look ?

Ham. On him! on him!-look you, how pale he glares!
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to ftones,
Would make them capable. Do not look on me,
Left with this piteous action you convert
My ftern effects; then what I have to do,
Will want true colour ; tears, perchance, for blood.

Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Ham. Do you see nothing there ? [Pointing to the Gh.
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I fee.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?

Queen.

Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.

Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it fteals away! My father in his habit as he liv'd! Look, where he goes ev'n now, out at the portal.

{Éxit Ghoft. Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain, This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in.

Ham. What ecitafy? My pulse, as yours, doth temp'rately keep time, And makes as healthful musick. Tis not madness That I have utter'd; "bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness, fpeaks : It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unfeen. Confefs yourself to heav'n ; Repent what's past, avoid what is to come; And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue ; For, in the fatness of these pursy times, Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, Yea, curb, and wooe, for leave to do it gond.

Queen. Oh Hamlet! thou haft cleft my heart in twain.

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it;
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night; but go not to mine uncle's bed :
Affume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster custom, who all sense doth eat (25)

(25) Tbat Monster custom, wb, all Sense dorb eat,

Of Habit's Devil, is Angel yet in tbis,

Tbar to the Use of Actions fair and good
He likewise gives a Frock or Livery,

That apily is put on.} This Passage is left out in the two elder Folio's: It is certainly corrupt, and the Players did the iscreet part to fine what they did not understand. Habit's Devil certainly arose from some conceited Tamperer with the Text, who

thought

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Of habits evil, is angel yet in this ;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence; the next, more easy;
For use can almost change the stamp of Nature,
And master ev’n the Devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night!
And when you are desirous to be blest,
I'll Bleffing beg of you. For this fame Lord,

[Pointing to Polonius.
I do repent: but heav'n hath pleas'd it fo,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister:
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him ; fo, again, good night!
I must be cruel, only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

Queen. What shall I do?
Ham. Not this by no means, that I bid you

do.
Let the fond King tempt you again to bed ;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kiffes,
Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know.
For who that's but a Queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do fo ?
No, in despight of lense and secrefy,

thought it was necessary, in Contrast to Angel. The Emendation of the Text I owe to the Sagacity of Dr. Thirlby.

Tbat Mongher cufism, who all Sense dot b eat

Of Habiis evil, is Angel, &c. i. e. Curtom, which by inuring us to ill Habits, makes us lose the apprehension of their being really ill, as easily will reconcile us to she practice of good. Actions,

Unpeg

Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep;
And break your own neck down.

Queen. Be thou aflur'd, if words be made of breath,
And breath of Life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast faid to me.

Ham. I must to England, you know that
Queen. Alack, I had forgot; 'tis fo concluded on.

Ham. There's letters feal'd, and my two school-fellows,
(Whom I will truit, as I will adders fang'd ;)
They bear the mandate; they must fweep my way,
And marshal me to knavery: let it work.
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petard : anda shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon. 0, 'tis moft sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet !
This man shall set me paeking;
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room;
Mother, good-night. Indeed, this Counsellor
Is now most still, moft fecret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
Come, Sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good-night, mother.

[Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius.

ACT

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ACTIV, SCENE, A Royal Apartment. Enter King and Queen, with Rosincrantz, and

Guildenstern.

T

KING.
HERE's matter in these fighs; these profound

heaves,
You must translate; 'tis fit, we understand them.
Where is your son ?-
Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.

[To Rof, and Guild. who go out. Ah, my good Lord, what have I seen to-night?

King. What, Gertrude ? How does Hamlet

Queen. Mad as the feas, and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier; in his lawless fit, Behind the arras hearing something ftir, He whips his tapier out, and cries, a rat! And, in this brainish apprehension, kills The unseen good old man.

King. O heavy deed!
It had been so with us, had we been there :
His liberty is full of threats to all,
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd ?
It will be laid to us, whose providence
Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,
This mad young man.

But fo much was our love,
We would not understand what was moft fit;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Ev’n on the pith of life.

Where is he gone?
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd,
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore

Among

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