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What is't, but to be nothing else but mad?
Queen. More matter, with less art.
Pol. Madam, I swear, I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true; 'tis true, 'tis pity; And pity 'tis ’tis true; a foolish figure,---But farewel it; for I will use no art. Mad let us grant hin then; and now emains That we find out the cause of this effect; Or rather say, the cause of this defect; For this effect, defective, comes by cause; Thus it remains, and the remainderthus.--Perpend.-I have a daughter; have, while she is mine; Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this; row gather, and surmise.
[He opens a Letter, and reads.] “ To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most “ beatified (29) Opaelia."----- That's an ill phrase:
(29) To the celeslal, and nay frul's idol, the moi beautified Ophelia.) I have ventured at an emendation here, against the authority of all the copies; but, I hope, upon examination, it will appear probable and reasonable. The word beautified niay carry two distinct ideas, either as applied to a woman made up of artificial beauties (which our Poet afterwards calls,
The harlot's cheek beautied with plastring art) or as applied to a perfon rich in native charms. As, in the Two Gentlemen
With goodly shape. As Shakespeare has therefore chose to use it in the latter acceptation, to express natural comeliness; I cannot imagine, that, here, he would have excepted to the phrare, and called it a vile one. But a stronger objection still, in my mind, lyes against it. As celestial and roul's idol are the introductory characteristics of Ophelia, what a dreadful anticlimax is it to descend to such an epithet as beautified! On the other
beatified is a vile phrase; but you shall hear ---" These to her excellent white bosom, these”...
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ? · Pol. Good Madam, stay a while, I will be faithful.
« Doubt thou the stars are fire, [Reading
" But never doubt I love. " Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I “ have not art to reckon my groans; but that I « love thee best, oh most belt, believe it. Adieu. - Thine evermore, most dear Lady, whilit
66 this machine is to him, Hamlet." This in obedience hath my daughter shewn me; And, more above, hath his folicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear.
hand, beatified, as I have conjectured, raises the image ; but
Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Love's Labour's loft.
Ibid. And Beaumont and Fletcher, I remember, in A Wife for di Monik, make a lover subscribe his letter to his mistress, tbus ;
-To the blest Evanthe.
King. But how has the received his love?
think? When I had seen this hot love on the wing, (As I perceived it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told ine :) what might you, Or my dear Mujeity your Queen here, think? If I had played the dak or table-book, Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb, Or looked upon this love with idle sight'; What might you think? no, I went round to work, And my young
mistress thas I did bespeak;
King. Do you chink this? .
Pol. Hath there been such a time, I'd fain know That I have positively said, 'tis fo,
[that, When it proved otherwise ?
King. Not that I know.
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.
King. How may we try it further?
Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours Here in the lobby.
(together Queen. So he does indeed.
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him; Be you
and I behind an arras then,
Enter HAMLET, reading.
I'll board him presently. [Exeunt King and Queen. Oh, give me leave.----How does my good Lord
Hamlet ? Ham. Well, God o' mercy, Pol. Do you know me, my Lord? Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. Pol. Not l, my Lord, Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my Lord ?
Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Pol. That's very true, my Lord.
Ham. For if the fun breed maggots in a dead'dog, Being a good kissing carrion---Have you a daughter?
Pol. I have, my Lord.
Ham. Let her not walk i'th' fun; conception is a blelling, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.
Pol. How fay you by that? still harping on my
daughter ! Yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fish
Ham. Words, words, words.
Lord. Ham. Slanders, Sir: for the fatirical slave says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plumb-tree gum: and that they have a plentiful lack of wit; together with most weak hams. AH which, Sir, tho' I most powerfully and potent. ly believe, yet I hold it not honelty to have it thus set down; for yourself, Sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could
backward. Pd. Tho' this be madness, yet there's method in't. Will you
walk out of the air, Lord? Ham. Into my grave.--
Pol. Indeed, that's out o'th' air :-----
Ham. You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal, except my life.