Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away; I'll boord him presently :-O, give me leave.-[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and Attendants. How does my good lord Hamlet? Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy. Pol. Do you know me, my lord? Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of two thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion,-Have you a daughter? a Wail, in folio; in quartos, mourn. b Has, in folio. So he has done, indeed. The quarto reads docs. c Boord. This is ordinarily printed board, but is spelt voord in the folio. Boord, bourd, or board, is to accost; it is also to jeer. Gifford says that to board is to accost; (as explained by Sir Toby in Twelfth Night, Act 1. Sc. III.) to dourd is to jest; and to boud, to pout, or appear sullen. These distinctions of orthography are, however, very seldom preserved. (See Note on Catiline, Jonson's Works, Vol. IV. p. 221.) d Two, in folio; in quartos, ten. The ordinary reading, which was suggested by Warbur Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun. conception is a blessing; but not as your daughter may conceive, friend, look to 't. Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.] Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'l speak to him again.-What do you read, my lord? Ham. Words, words, words! Pol. What is the matter, my lord? Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical slave says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, or plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could backward. go Pol. Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave? Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air.—How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you. Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, my life.b Pol. Fare you well, my lord. Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Pol. You go to seek my lord Hamlet; there he is. ton, is, "being a god, kissing carrion." The text, as we give it, is that of the quartos and the folios. We fear that this "noble emendation," as Johnson calls it, cannot be sustained by what follows. The carrion is good at kissing-ready to return the kiss of the sun-"Common kissing Titan,"-and in the bitterness of his satire Hamlet associates the idea with the daughter of Polonius. Mr. Whiter, however, considers that good, the original reading, is correct; but that the poet uses the word as a substantive-the GOOD principle in the fecundity of the earth. In that case we should read, "being a good, kissing carrion." (See 'Specimen of a Commentary on Shakespeare,' p. 157.) aThis is sometimes printed "yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am,"-a made up reading. b So the folio. The quarto (B) reads, "except my fo, except my life, except my life." lord. Ros. Neither, my Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favour? Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What's the news? Ros. None, my lord; but that the world's grown honest. Ham. Then is dooms-day near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither? Guil. Prison, my lord? Ilam. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst. Ros. We think not so, my lord. Ham. Why, then 't is none to you: for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison. Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams. Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs and outstretch'd heroes the beggars' shadows: Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Iam. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear, a half-penny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come; deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What should we say, my lord? Ham. Why anything. But to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know, the good Ling and queen have sent for you. Ros. To what end, my lord? Ham. That you must teach me. conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? But let me Ros. What say you? [To GUILDENSTern. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you; [Aside.] -if you love me, hold not off. Guil. My lord, we were sent for. Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery of your secrecy to the king and queen. Moult no feather. I have of late, (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirt, foregone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a steril promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you,- this brave o'erhanging firmament this majestical roof fretted with golden a So the folio. The passage is usually printed from quarto (B), "any thing-but to the purpose.' b So the folio. The quarto (B), reads, "and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather." c Firmament. So the quarto (B). Using o'erhanging as a substantive, and omitting firmament, (the reading of the folio,) the sentence is, perhaps, less cloquent but more coherent. The air is the canopy; the o'erhanging; the majestical roof. Here, it appears to us, there are three distinct references to the common belief of the three regions of air. Ben Jonson, in his description of the scenery of the Masque of Hymen,' has this passage:-"A cortine of painted clouds reached to the utmost roof of the hall, and suddenly opening, revealed the three regions of air: in the highest of which sat Juno, in a glorious throne of gold, circled with comets and fiery meteors, engendered in that hot and dry region; her feet reaching to the lowest, where was made a rainbow, and within it musicians seated, figuring aëry spirits, their habits various, and resembling the several colours caused in that part of the air by reflection. The midst was all of dark and condensed clouds, as being the proper place where rain, hail, and other watery meteors are made." The" canopy," we believe, is the lowest region of colours caused by reflection;" the "o'erhanging." the midst of "dark and condensed clouds; " the "majestical roof fretted with golden fire," the highest, where Juno sat, "circled with comets and fiery meteors." The air, in its three regions, appears to Hamlet no other thing "than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours." If this interpretation be correct, the word "firmament," which is applied to the heavens generally, might have been rejected by the poet, as conveying an image unsuited to that idea of a part which is eonveyed by the substantive “o'erhanging." 121 fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though, by your smiling, you seem to say so. Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said, "Man delights not me?" Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service. Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target: the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for 't.-What players are they? Ros. Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city ? Ham. How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. Ros. I think, their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed? Ros. No, indeed, they are not. cry Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: But there is, sir, an aiery of children, little eyases, that out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for 't: these are now the fashion; and so berattle the common stages, (so they call them,) that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come thither. Ham. What, are they children? who maintains them? how are they escoted? Will they a Lenten-sparing-like fare in Lent. Coled overtook-went side by side-from côté. The quarto of 1603 reads, "that are tickled in the lungs." The sere is a dry affection of the throat, by which the lungs are tickled; but the clown provokes laughter even from those who habitually cough. d Escoted-paid. The scot or shot-the coin cast down-is pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players, (as it is like most, if their means are no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession? Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them to controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is 't possible? Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. Ham. Do the boys carry it away? Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. Ham. It is not strange; for mine uncle is king of Denmark; and those that would make mowes at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. Flourish of trumpets within. Guil. There are the players. Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to ElsiYour hands. Come: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in the garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my unclefather, and aunt-mother, are deceived. nore. Guil. In what, my dear lord? Ham. I am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.d Enter POLONIUS. Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern,-and you too; -at each ear a hearer; that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swathing* clouts. Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to the share of any common charge paid by an individual. The French escotter, is to pay the scot. Hence "scot and lot." a In some modern editions, "to tarre them on." The folio has not on. In King John (Act IV. Sc. 11.) we have "Like a dog that is compelled to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on." To tarre is to exasperate, from the Anglo-Saxon tirian. b In quartos, very strange. e In quartos, mouths. The mowes of the folio is more Shaksperian-as in the Tempest. "Sometimes like apes that moe and chatter at me." d Handsaw-the corruption in this proverbial expression of heronshawo-hernshaw, a heron. In Spenser, we have "As when a cast of falcons made their flight At an herneshaw." • Swathing, in folio; in quartos, swaddling. them; for, they say, an old man is twice a child. Ham. I will prophesy. He comes to tell me of the players; mark it.-You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 't was so, indeed. Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. Pol. Upon mine honour,— Ham. Then came each actor on his ass, Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoricalcomical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ, and the liberty, these are the only men. Han. O Jephthah, judge of Israel,—what a treasure hadst thou! Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord ? One fair daughter, and no more, Enter Four or Five Players. You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:- I am glad to see thee well:-welcome, good friends. -O, my old friend! Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark P-What! my young lady and mistress! By-'r lady, your ladyship is nearer heaven, than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.-Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to 't like French falconers, fly at any thing a The folio omits was. b Valiant, in folio; which is interpreted manly. The quarto has valanc'd, which is explained "fringed with a beard." we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech. ì Play. What speech, my lord? Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, -but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 't was caviare to the general: but it was (as I received it, and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine,) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes; set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no sallets a in the lines to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase that might indite the author of affectation; but called it, an honest method [as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine]. One chief speech in it I chiefly loved: 't was Eneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see; The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast, 't is not so; it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms, Now is he total gules; b horridly trick'd c With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons; Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damned light To their vile murthers: d Roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks. Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good accent, and good discretion. 1 Play. Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still. a Sallets, ribaldry. b Gules, red, in heraldic phrase. e Trick'd, painted; also a word in heraldry. Vile murthers, in the folios; in quartos, lord's mur her The bold winds speechless, and the orb below Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, Pol. This is too long. a Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.-Prithec, say on:-He's for a jig, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps:-say on: come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, O who, had seen the mobled queenb Ham. The mobled queen? Pol. That's good: mobled queen is good. 1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flame A blanket, in the alarum of fear caught up; Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in 's eyes.-Pray you, no more. Ham. "Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.-Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstracts, and brief chronicles, of the time: After your death you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you lived. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. Ham. Odd's bodikin man, better: Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape A jig, a ludicrous interlude. b Mobled. This is the reading of quartos (A) and (B). In the folio we have inobled, which is, we have little doubt, a misprint. In the folio of 1632, the original reading was restored. Mobled, mabled, is hastily muffled up. The mobled queen has "A clout about that head Where late the diadem stood.' In Sandys' Travels we have "their heads and faces are mabled in fine linen." To mob, or mab, is to dress carelessly; a mob is a covering for the head,-a close covering, according to some.-a mobile covering, more probably. c Abstracts, in the folio; another reading is abstract, adjectively. d Better, in the folio; in quartos, much better. Ros. Good my lord! [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you: Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? & Whole, in folio; in quartos, own. b Wann'd in the quartos; the folio, warm'a. Free,-free trom oftence. d John-a-dreams,-a soubriquet for a heavy, lethargi fellow |
