Thy knotty and combined locks to part To ears of flesh and blood; lift, list, oh lift! HAM. O heav'n ! GHOST. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. GHOST. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; But this moft foul, ftrange and unnatural. HAM. Hafte me to know it, that I, with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May fly to my revenge. GHOST. I find thee apt; And duller fhould't thou be, than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe's whatf. Would't thou not flir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear a 'Tis giv'n out, that, fleeping in my orchard, A ferpent flung me. So the whole ear of Denmark T Rankly abus'd: but know, thon noble youth, HAM. Oh, my prophetic foul! my uncle ! GHOST. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, So to feduce!) won to his fhameful luft k Brieflet me be : Sleeping within mine orchard, My cuftom always in the afternoon, Upon my fecure hour thy uncle ftole Thus was I fleeping, by a brother's hand, my fin; No reck'ning made! but sent to my account HAM. Oh horrible ! oh horrible! most horrible! And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu : remember me. HAM. Oh, atl you host of heav'n! oh earth! what elfe! And shall I couple hell? oh fie! hold my heart ? And you, my finews grow not inftant old; But bear me ftifly up. Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a feat In this distracted globe; remember thee ! Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter. CHA P. XXX. HAMLA SHAKSPEARE SOLILOQUY ón DEATH. To be, or not to be ?-that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to fuffer The flings and arrows of Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by oppofing end them?—To die,—to fleep— The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks To fleep? perchance to dream ?ay, there's the rub; That makes calamity of fo long life: For who would bear the whips and fcorns o' th' time, The infolence of office, and the fpurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes ; ; With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, No traveller returns) puzzles the will ; And ་ And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have, Thus confcience does make cowards of us all : SHAKSPEAR?, CHAP. XXXI. SOLILOQUY OF THE KING IN HAMLET. H! my offence is rank, it fmells to heav'n It hath the primal, eldest curse upon't ; And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, Or pardon'd being down?--Then I'll look up ; Of thofe effects for which I did the murder,, My My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. But 'tis not fo above. There is no fhuffling; there the action lies' What then? what refts? Art more engag'd! Help, angels! make affay ! All may be well. SHAKSPEARE. CHA P. XXXII. ODE ON ST. CECILIA's DAY.. DESCEND, ye Nine ! defcend and fing; The breathing inftruments infpire, Wake into voice each filent ftring, In a fadly-pleafing strain The fhrill echoes rebound :: |