SCENE V. Enter King, Queen, Polonjus, Ophelia, Rofincrantz, Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with a guard carrying torches. Danish March, Sound a flourish. Ham. They're coming to the Play; I must be idle. Get you a place. King. How fares our coufin Hamlet? Ham. Excellent, i' faith, of the camelion's difh. I eat the air, promife-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons fo. King. I have nothing with this anfwer, Hamlet; thefe words are not mine. Ham. No, nor mine now.- My Lord; you play'd once i' th' university, you fay? [To Polonius. Pol. That I did, my Lord, and was accounted a good actor. Ham. And what did you enact? Pol. I did enact Julius Cafar, I was killed i' th' Capitol. Brutus kill'd me, Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill fo capital a calf there. Be the players ready? 8 Rof. Ay, my Lord, they stay upon your patience, Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, fit by me. Ham. No good mother, here's metal more attractive. Pol, Oh ho, do you mark that? 7 nor mine now. .] A man's words, fays the proverb, are his own no longer than he keep them unspoken. they stay upon your patience.] fure. May it not be read more intelli Ham. Ham. Lady, fhall I lie in your lap? Oph. No, my Lord. [Lying down at Ophelia's feet. Ham. I mean, my Head upon your Lap? Ham. Do you think, I meant country matters? Ham. That's a fair thought, to lie between a maid's Oph. What is, my Ham. Nothing, Oph. You are merry, my Lord. Oph. Ay, my Lord. Ham. Oh! your only jig-mafter; what should a man do, but be merry? For, look you, how chearfully my mother looks, and my father dy'd within these two hours. Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my Lord. Ham. So long? nay, then let the Devil wear black, 9 Do you think, I meant countrymatters ?] I think we must read, Do you think, I meant country manners? Do you imagine that I meant to fit in your lap, with fuch rough gallantry as clowns ufe to their laffes ? 3 nay, then let the Devil wear black, FOR I'll have a fuit of fables.] The conceit of thefe words is not taken. They are an ironical apology for his mother's chearful looks: Two months was long enough in confcience to make any dead hufband forgotten. But the editors, in their nonfenfical blunder, have made Hamlet fay just the contrary. That the Devil and he would both go into mourning, tho' his mother did not. The true reading is this, Nay, then let the Devil wear black, 'FORE I'll have a fuit of fable. 'Fore, i. e. before. As much as to fay, Let the Devil wear black for me, I'll have none. The Oxford Editor defpifes an emendation fo eafy, and reads it thus, Nay, then let the Devil wear black, for I'll have a fuit of ERMINE. And you could expect no lefs, when fuch a critic had the dreffing of him. But the blunder was a pleasant one. The fenfelefs editors had wrote fables, the fur so called, for fable, black. black, for I'll have a fuit of fables. Oh heav'ns! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet! then there's hope, a Great man's memory may outlive his life half a year: but, by'r-lady,' he muft build churches then; or elfe fhall he fuffer not thinking on, with the hobby horfe; whofe epitaph is, For ob, for ob, the bobby-horse is forgot. I know not why our editors fhould, with fuch implacable anger, perfecute our predeceffors. Oi vexpor un dansow, the dead it is true can make no refiftance, they may be attacked with great fecurity; but fince they can neither feel nor mend, the fafety of mauling them feems greater than the pleasure; nor perhaps would it much mifbefeem us to remember, amidst our triumphs over the nonfenfical and the fenfelefs, that we likewife are men; that debemur morti, and as Swift obferved to Burnet, fhall foon be among the dead ourselves. 2 I cannot find how the common reading is nonfenfe, nor why Hamlet, when he laid afide his drefs of mourning, in a country where it was bitter cold, and the air was nipping and eager, fhould not have a fuit of fables. I fuppofe it is well enough known, that the fur of fables is not black. 2 Juffer not thinking on, with the hobby-barfe ;] Amongst the country may-games, there was an hobby-horfe, which, when the puritanical humour of those times oppofed and difcredited these games, was brought by the poets and balladmakers as an inftance of the ridiculous zeal of the fectaries: from these ballads Hamlet quotes a line or two. -WARBURTON. This may be true, but feems to be said at hazard. SCENE Hautboys play. The dumb fhew enters. 3 Enter a Duke and Dutchefs, with regal Coronets, very lovingly; the Dutchess embracing him, and be her. She kneels; and he takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck; he lays him down upon a bank of flowers; fhe feeing him afleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow takes off his Crown, kiffes it, and pours poifon in the Duke's ears, and Exit. The Dutchefs returns, finds the Duke dead, and makes paffionate action. The poifoner, with some two or three mutes, comes in again, feeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The poifoner wooes the Dutchefs with gifts; fhe feems loth and unwilling a while, but in the end accepts his love. [Exeunt. Oph. What mean this, my Lord? Ham. Marry, this is miching Malicho; it means mischief. 3 Enter a King and Queen very lovingly.] Thus have the blundering and inadvertent editors all along given us this ftage direction, tho' we are exprefly told by Hamlet anon, that the ftory of this introduced interlude is the murder of Gonzago Duke of Vienna. The fource of this mift ke is easily to be accounted for, from the ftage's dreffing the characters. Regal coronets being at first order'd by the poet for the Duke and Dutchef, the fucceeding players, who did not strictly obferve the quality of the perfons or circumftances of the ftory, mistook 'em for a King and Queen; and fo the error was deduced down from thence to the prefent times. THEOBALD I have left this as I found it, because the question is of no importance. But both my copies have, Enter a King and Queen very lovingly, without any men→ tion o regal coronets. 4 Marry, this is miching MALICHO; it means mischief.] The Oxford Editor, imagining that the speaker had here englished his own cant phrafe of miching maliche, Oph. Belike, this show imports the Argument of the Play? Enter Prologue. Ham. We fhall know by this fellow; the Players cannot keep counfel; they'll tell all. Oph. Will he tell us, what this fhow meant? Ham. Ay, or any fhow that you'll fhew him. Be not you ashamed to fhew, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. Oph. You are naught, you are naught. I'll mark the Play. Prol. For us, and for our tragedy, Here ftooping to your clemency, We beg your bearing patiently. Ham. Is this a prologue, or the poesy of a ring? malicho, tells us (by his gloffary) that it fignifies mifchief lying bid, and that Malicho is the Spanish Malbeco; whereas it fignifies, Lying in wait for the poifoner. Which, the speaker tells us, was the very purpose of this reprefentation. It should therefore be read MALHECHOR Spanish, the pifoner. So Mich fignified, originally, to keep hid and out of fight; and, as fuch men generally did it for the purposes of lying in wait, it then fignified to rob. And in this fenfe Shakefpear ufes the noun, a miaber, |