Wringing it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

Op. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with love, In honourable fashion.

Po. Ay, fashion you may call't go to, go to. Oph. And hath giv'n count'nance to his fpeech, my With almost all the holy vows of heav'n. [1 ord, Po. Ay, fpringes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul Lends the tongue vows. Thefe blazes, oh my daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Ev'n in their promife as it is a making, You must not take for fire. From this time, Be fomewhat fcanter of your maiden-prefence, Set your intreatments at a higher rate, Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe fo much in him, that he is young; And with a larger tether may he walk, Than may be giv'n you. In few, Ophelia,

Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, (14)

(14) Do not believe his vows ; for they are brokers ;

Breathing like fanctified and picus bonds,

The better to beguile.]

Not

To the fame purpose our Author, speaking of vows, expreffcs himfelf in his poem, call'd, the Lover's Complaint.

Saw, how deceits were guilded in his fmiling;

Knew, vows were ever brokers to defiling:

But to the paffage in queftion: tho' all the editors have fwallow'd it implicitly, it is certainly corrupt; and I have been furpriz'd, how men of genius and learning could let it pafs without fome fufpicion. What Ideas can we form to ourselves of a breathing bond, or of its be ing fanctified and pious? The only tolerable way of reconciling it to a meaning without a change, is to fuppofe that the Poet intends, by the word bonds, verbal obligations, proteftations: and then, indeed, thefe bonds may, in fome fenfe, be faid to have breath. But this is to make him guilty of over-ftraining the word and allufion; and it will hardly bear that interpretation, at least not without much obfcurity. As he, just before, is calling amorous vows brokers, and implorers of unholy fuits: I think, a continuation of the plain and narural fenfe directs to an eafy emendation, which makes the whole bought of a piece, and gives it a turn not unworthy of our Poet. Breathing, like fan&tified and pious bawds, The better to beguile.

Broker,

Not of that die which their investments fhew,
But mere implorers of unholy fuits,

Breathing like fanctified and pious bawds,
The better to beguile.

This is for all:

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you fo flander any moment leifure,

As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet,
Look to't, I charge you, come your way.
Opb. I fhall obey, my Lord.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Platform before the Palace.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.

Ham. T

HE air bites fhrewdly; it is very cold.
Hor. it is a nipping and an eager air.

Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is ftruck.

Hor. I heard it not: it then draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[Noife of warlike mufick within.

What does this mean, my Lord?

[rouse. Ham. The King doth wake to-night, and takes his Keeps waffel, and the fwagg'ring up-fpring reels; And as he drains his draughts of khenifh down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.

Hor. Is it a custom ?

Broker, 'tis to be observ'd, our Author perpetually uses as the more modeft fynonymous term for bawd. Befides, what ftrengthens my correction, and makes this emendation the more neceffary and probable, is, the words with which the Poet winds up his thought, the better to beguile. It is the fly artifice and cuftom of bawds to put on an air and form of fanctity, to betray the virtues of young ladies; by drawing them first into a kind opinion of them, from their exteriour and diffembled goodness. And bawds in their office of treachery are likewife properly brokers; and the implorers and prompters of unboly (that is, unchafte) fuits: and fo a chain of the fame metaphors is continued to the end.

I made this emendation when I publish'd my SHAKESPEARE ReBor'd, and Mr. Pope has thought fit to embrace it in his last edition,

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

But, to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach, than the obfervance.
This heavy-headed revel, eaft and weft, (15)
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations;
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes
From our atchievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,

That for fome vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot chufe his origin)

By the o'ergrowth of fome complexion,

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by fome habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plaufive manners; that these men
Carrying, I fay, the ftamp of one defect,
(Being nature's livery, or fortune's fcar)
Their virtues elfe, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,

Shall in the general cenfure take corruption
From that particular fault. - -The dram of Base (16)
Doth all the noble fubftance of worth out,
To his own fcandal.

Enter

(15) This heavy headed revel, east and weft.] This whole speech of Hamlet, to the entrance of the ghost, I set right in my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd, fo fhall not trouble the readers again with a repetition of those corrections, or juftification of them. Mr. Pope admits, I have given the whole a glimmering of sense, but it is purely conjectural, and founded on no authority of copies. But is this any objection againft conjecture in Shakespeare's cafe, where no original manufcript is fub fifting, and the printed copies have fucceffively blunder'd after one another? And is not even a glimmering of fenfe, fo it be not arbitrarily impos'd, preferable to flat and glaring nonfenfe? If not, there is a total end at leaft to this branch of criticism: and nonfenfe may plead title and prefcription from time, because there is no direct authority for difpoffeffing it.

(16)
The dram of eafe
Doth all the noble fubftance of a doubt

To bis own scandal.] Mr. Pope, who has degraded this whole speech,

F 3

has

Enter Ghost.

Hor. Look, my Lord, it comes !

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable shape, (17)

has entirely left out this concluding fentence of it. It looks, indeed, to be defperate, and for that reafon, I conceive, he chofe to drop it. I do not remember a paffage, throughout all our Poet's works, more intricate and deprav'd in the text, of lefs meaning to outward appearance, or more likely to baffle the attempts of criticism in its aid. It is certain, there is neither fenfe, nor grammar, as it now ftands: yet, with a flight alteration, I'll endeavour to cure thofe defects, and give a fentiment too, that fhall make the Poet's thought clofe nobly. What can a dram of cafe mean? Or, what can it have to do with the context, fuppofing it were the allow'd expreffion here? Or, in a word, what agreement in fenfe is there betwixt a dram of cafe and the fubftance of a doubt ? It is a desperate corruption, and the nearest way to hope for a cure of it, is, to confider narrowly what the Poet must be fupp s'd to have intended here. The whole tenour of this Speech is, that let men have never fo many, or fo eminent, virtues, if they have one defect which accompanies them, that fingle blemish fhall throw a flain upon their whole character: and not only fo, (if I understand right) but ball deface the very effence of all their goodnefs, to its own fcandal: fo that their virtues themfelves will become their reproach. This is not only a continuation of his fentiment, but carries it up with a fine and proper climax. I have ventur'd to conjecture, that the Author might write;

-The dram of bafe

Dotb all the noble fubftance of worth out
To bis own fcandal.

The dram of base, i e. the least alloy of bafeness or vice. It is very frequent with our Poet to ufe the adjective of quality instead of the fubitantive fignifying the thing. Befides, I have obferved, that elfew here, fpeaking of worth, he delights to confider it as a quality that adds weight to a perfon, and connects the word with that idea. Let ev'ry word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light.

All's Well that ends Well. From whose fo many weights of bafeness cannot

A dram of worth be drawn.

Cymbeline.

(17) Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable share.] By questionable we now constantly understand difputable, doubtful; but our Author ufes it in a fenfe quite oppofite, not difputable, but to be convers'd with, inviting queftion: as in Macbeth.

Live you, or are you aught that man may question ?

That

That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Ham'e',
King, Father, Royal Dune: oh! answer me;
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell,
Why thy canon z'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cearments? why the fepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead coarfe, again, in compleat fteel,
Revifit'ft thus the glimpfes of the moon,
Making night hideous, and us fools of nature
So horribly to shake our difpofition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what fhould we do?

[Ghefts beckons Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, As if it fome impartment did desire

To you alone.

Mar. Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground:

But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.

[Holling Hamlet.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.

Hor. Do not, my Lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the fear?

I do not fet my life at a pin's fee;

And, for my foul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again.

I'll follow it

Hor. What if it tempt you tow'rd the flood, my Lord?

Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff,

That beetles o'er his bafe into the fea;

And there affume fome other horrible form,
Which might deprive your fov'reignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it.
The very place puts toys of defperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea;
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me fill: go on, I'll follow thee

F 4

Mar.