Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great,
Is, not to stir without great argument; 9
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,

When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason, and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot1
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough, and continent, 2
To hide the slain?-O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

Queen.

SCENE V.

Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.

Enter Queen and HORATIO.

I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract; Her mood will needs be pitied.

[Exit.

What would she have?

Queen. Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears, There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her

heart;

Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,

Is, not to stir without, &c.] But then, honour is an argument, or subject of debate, sufficiently great, and when honour is at stake, we must find cause of quarrel in a straw.

1 a plot]-A piece, or portion.

2 continent,] Continent, in our author, means that which comprehends or encloses.

3 Spurns enviously at straws;] Envy is much oftener put by our poet (and those of his time) for direct aversion, than for malignity conceived at the sight of another's excellence or happiness.

Yet the unshaped use of it doth move

The hearers to collection; they aim at it, 5

And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;

Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think, there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds:

Let her come in.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,

[Exit HORATIO.

Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: 7

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,

It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt.

4

Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA.

Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia?

Oph. How should I your true love know 8

From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff,

And his sandal shoon. 9

[Singing.

pre

to collection;] i. e. to deduce consequences from such mises; or, as Mr. M. Mason observes, "endeavour to collect some meaning from them."

5

they aim at it,] To aim is to guess.

6 Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.] i. e. though her meaning cannot be certainly collected, yet there is enough to put a mischievous interpretation to it.

7

to some great amiss:]

Shakspeare is not singular in his use of this word as a substantive. Each toy is, each trifle.

8 How should I your true love, &c.] There is no part of this play in its representation on the stage, more pathetick than this scene; which, I suppose, proceeds from the utter insensibility Ophelia has to her own misfortunes.

A great sensibility, or none at all, seems to produce the same effect. In the latter the audience supply what she wants, and with the former they sympathize. Sir J. REYNOLDS.

• By his cockle hat and staff,

And his sandal shoon.] This is the description of a pilgrim.

Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

King. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph. Well, God'ield you! They say, the owl was a baker's daughter.3 Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:...

While this kind of devotion was in favour, love-intrigues were carried on under that mask. Hence the old ballads and novels made pilgrimages the subjects of their plots. The cockle-shell hat was one of the essential badges of this vocation: for the chief places of devotion being beyond sea, or on the coasts, the pilgrims were accustomed to put cockle shells upon their hats, to denote the intention or performance of their devotion.

I Larded -;] The expression is taken from cookery.

2 Well, God'ield you!] i. e. Heaven reward you!

3 the owl was a baker's daughter.] This was a legendary story. Our Saviour being refused bread by

is described as punishing hos ha duuning hea

the daughter of a baker,

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,

To be your Valentine:

Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes, +

And dupp'd the chamber door; 5

Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.

King. Pretty Ophelia !

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

By Gis, and by Saint Charity,"

Alack, and fye for shame!

Young men will do't, if they come to't;

By cock, they are to blame.

Quoth she, before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to wed:

[He answers.]

So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long hath she been thus ?

Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they should lay him i'the cold ground: My brother shall know of it,

4 don'd his clothes,] To don is to do on, to put on; as 'doff is to do off, put off.

5 And dupp'd the chamber door;] To dup is to do up; to lift the latch.

6 By Gis,] Probably the contraction of some saint's name.

7 by Saint Charity,] Saint Charity is a saint among the Roman Catholicks.

By cock,] This is a corruption of the sacred name.

and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night.

[Exit.

King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray

you.

[Exit HORATIO.

O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death: and now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude,

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions! First, her father slain;

Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
Of his own just remove: The people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; and we have done but

greenly,

9

In hugger-mugger to inter him1: Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last, and as much containing as all these,

Her brother is in secret come from France:
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,

9

but greenly,] But unskilfully; with greenness; that is, without maturity of judgment.

1 In hugger-mugger to inter him:] All the modern editions that I have consulted, give it:

In private to inter him;

That the words now replaced are better, I do not undertake to prove; it is sufficient that they are Shakspeare's; if phraseology is to be changed as words grow uncouth by disuse, or gross by vulgarity, the history of every language will be lost; we shall no longer have the words of any author; and, as these alterations will be often unskilfully made, we shall in time have very little of his meaning. JOHNSON.