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We will beftow ourselves:Read on this book;

[To Oph.

That fhew of fuch an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,

5 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's vifage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himself.

King. Oh, 'tis too true!

How fmart a lafh that speech doth give my con

fcience !

[Afide. The harlot's cheek, beauty'd with plaftring art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, Than is my deed to my moft painted word. Oh heavy burden!

Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord.

[Exeunt all but Ophelia.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. 7 To be, or not to be? that is the question.Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer

The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or

5 'Tis too much prov'd,—] It is found by too frequent experience. JOHNSON.

more ugly to the thing that helps it,] That is, compared with the thing that helps it. JOHNSON.

7 To be, or not to be?] Of this celebrated foliloquy, which bursting from a man distracted with contrariety of defires, and overwhelmed with the magnitude of his own purpofes, is connected rather in the fpeaker's mind, than on his tongue, I fhall endeavour to difcover the train, and to fhew how one fentiment produces another.

Hamlet, knowing himself injured in the most enormous and atrocious degree, and feeing no means of redrefs, but fuch as mut expofe him to the exremity of hazard, meditates on his fituation in this manner: Before I can form any rational fcheme of action under this preffure of diftrefs, it is neceffary to decide, whether, after our prefent ftate, we are to be or not to be. That is the queftion, which, as it fhall be answered, will determine, whether 'tis nobler, and more fuitable to the dignity of reafon, to fuffer the outrages of fortune patiently, or to take arms

againft

8 Or to take arms against a fea of troubles,
And, by oppofing, end them?-9 To die-to fleep-
No more?—and, by a fleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to ;-'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die ;-to sleep;—
To fleep! perchance, to dream :-Ay, there's the
rub;

For in that fleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil,
Muft give us paufe. There's the respect,
That makes calamity of fo long life:

against them, and by oppofing end them, though perhaps with the lofs of life. If to die, were to fleep, no more, and by a fleep to end the miferies of our nature, fuch a fleep were devoutly to be wifhed; but if to fleep in death, be to dream, to retain our powers of fenfibility, we must paufe to confider, in that fleep of death what dreams may come. This confideration makes calamity fo long endured; for who would bear the vexations of life, which might be ended by a bare bodkin, but that he is afraid of fomething in unknown futurity? This fear it is that gives efficacy to confcience, which, by turning the mind upon this regard, chills the ardour of refolution, checks the vigour of enterprize, and makes the current of defire ftagnate in inactivity. We may fuppofe that he would have applied these general obfervations to his own cafe, but that he discovered Ophelia. JOHNSON.

8 Or to take arms against A SEA of troubles,] Without question Shakespeare wrote,

-againft ASSAIL of troubles. i. e. affault. WARBURTON.

Mr. Pope propofed fiege. I know not why there fhould be fo much folicitude about this metaphor. Shakespeare breaks his metaphors often, and in this defultory speech there was less need of preferving them. JOHNSON.

9

To die, to fleep,-] This paffage is ridiculed in the Scornful Lady of B. and Fletcher, as follows.

66

-be deceas'd, that is, afleep, for fo the word is taken. "To fleep, to die; to die, to fleep; a very figure, Sir." &c. &c.

1-mortal coil,] i. e. turmoil, buftle.

STEEVENS.

WARBURTON.

For

For who would bear 2 the whips and fcorns of time, The oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of defpis'd love, the law's delay,

The

-the whips and Scorns OF TIME,] The evils here complained of are not the product of time or duration fimply, but of a corrupted age or manners. We may be fure, then, that Shakespeare wrote,

-the whips and fcorns OF TH' TIME. And the defcription of the evils of a corrupt age, which follows, confirms this emendation. WARBURTON.

I doubt whether the corruption of this paffage is not more than the editor has fufpected. Whips and Scorns have no great connexion with one another, or with time: whips and corns are evils of very different magnitude, and though at all times fcorn may be endured, yet the times that put men ordinarily in danger of whips, are very rare. Falftaff has faid, that the courtiers would whip him with their quick wits; but I know not that whip can be used for a feoff or infult, unless its meaning be fixed by the whole expreffion.

I am afraid left I should venture too far in correcting this paffage. If whips be retained, we may read,

What

For who would bear the whips and fcorns of tyrants. But I think that quip, a fneer, a farcafm, a contemptuous jeft, is the proper word, as fuiting very exactly with corn. then must be done with time? it fuits no better with the new reading than with the old, and tyrant is an image too bulky and ferious. I read, but not confidently,

For who would bear the quips and fcorns of title.

It may be remarked, that Hamiet, in his enumeration of miferies, forgets, whether properly or not, that he is a prince, and mentions many evils to which inferior stations only are expofed. JOHNSON.

I think we might venture to read the whips and scorns of TIMES, i. e. of times fatirical as the age of Shakespeare, which probably furnished him with the idea.

In the times of Elizabeth and James (particularly in the former) there was more illiberal private abufe and peevish fatire published, than in any others I ever knew of, except the prefent ones. I have many of these publications, which were almost all pointed at individuals.

Whips and fcorns are furely as infeparable companions, as public punishment and infamy.

Quips, the word which Dr. John fon would introduce, is derived, by all etymologifts, from whips.

Hamlet is introduced as reafoning on a queftion of general

concern

The infolence of office, and the fpurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes;
When he himfelf 3 might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardles bear,
4 To groan and fweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of fomething after death,
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns; puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of refolution

concernment. He therefore takes in all fuch evils as could befall mankind in general, without confidering himself at prefent as a prince, or wishing to avail himself of the few exemptions which high place might once have claimed. STEEV. -might his Quietus make

3

With a bare bodkin?] This firft expreffion probably alluded to the writ of difcharge, which was formerly granted to those barons and knights who perfonally attended the king on any foreign expedition, which was called a Quietus.

The word is ufed for the difcharge of an account by Webster, in his Dutchess of Malfy, 1623.

"You had the trick in audit time to be fick

"Till I had fign'd your Quietus."

A bodkin was, I believe, the ancient term for a fmall dagger. Gafcoigne, fpeaking of Julius Cæfar, fays,

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At laft with bodkins, dub'd and douft to death

All, all his glory vanish'd with his breath." In the margin of Stowe's Chronicle, edit. 1614, it is faid, that Cæfar was flain with bodkins; and in The Mufes Lookingglafs, by Randolph, 1638.

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Apho. A rapier's but a bodkin,

"Deil. And a bodkin

"Is a most dang'rous weapon; fince I read
"Of Julius Cæfar's death, I durit not venture
"Into a taylor's fhop for fear of bodkins."

Again, in The Cuftom of the Country, by B. and Fletcher:
-Out with your bodkin,

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"Your pocket-dagger, your ftilletto."

STEEVENS.

To groan and fweat] All the old copies have, to grunt and feat. It is undoubtedly the true reading, but can fçarcely be borne by modern ears. JoHNSON.

Is

Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lofe the name of action.--Soft you, now!
[Seeing Ophelia.
The fair Ophelia ?-5 Nymph, in thy orifons
Be all my fins remembred.

Oph. Good, my lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?
Ham. I humbly thank you; well.

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver.

I

pray you, now receive them.

Ham. No, not I; I never gave you ought.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;

And, with them, words of fo fweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich: that perfume loft,
Take thefe again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
-There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest?
Oph. My lord!

Ham. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honeft and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty.

5 -Nymph, in thy orifons, &c.] This a touch of nature. Hamlet, at the fight of Ophelia, does not immediately recollect, that he is to perfonate madnefs, but makes her an addrefs grave and folemn, fuch as the foregoing meditation excited in his thoughts. JOHNSON.

That if you be honest and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty. This is the reading of all the modern editions, and is copied from the quarto. The folio reads, your honefty fhould admit no difcourfe to your beauty. The true reading feems to be this, If you be honest and fair, you should admit your honesty to no difcourfe with your beauty. This is the fenfe evidently required by the procefs of the converfation. JoHNSON.

Oph.

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