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King. Who shall stay you?
Laer. My will, not all the world
King. Good Laertes,
know them then ?
Laer. How-now, what Noise is that?
(62) Nature is fine in Love,] Mr. Pope seems puzzled at this Passage, and therefore in both his Editions subjoins this Conjecture, Perhaps, fays He,
Nature is fire in love, and where tis fire, -... ,
It fends fome precious Incense of itself
After the Thing it loves, I own, this Conjecture to me imparts no Satisfactory Idea. Nature is suppos'd to be the Fire, and to furnish the Incense too : Had Love been
Oph. They bore him bare-fat'd on the bier,
And on his Grave rains many a tear ;
you well, my dove! Laer. Hadft thou thy wits, and didst perswade Re
venge, It could not move thus.
Oph. You must sing, down a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O how the wheel becomes it ! it is the false steward that stole his master's daughter.
Laer. This nothing's more than matter.
Oph. There's rosemary, that's 'for remembrance ; pray, love, remember; and there's pancies, that's for thoughts.
Laer. A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
fuppos'd the Fire, and Nature sent out the Incense, 'I'fhould more readily have been reconcil'd to the Sentiment. But no Changę, in my Opinion, is neceffary to the Text ; I conceive, that This might be the Poet's Meaning “ In the Passion of Love, Nature becomes more exquifite “ of Senfation, is more delicate and refin'd; that is, Natural Aftection, “ rais’d and sublim'd into a Love-Passion, becomes more inflamed and “ intense than usual; and where it is so, as People in Love generally send “ what they have of most valuable after their Lovers ;. fo poor Ophelia “ has sent her most precious Senses after the Object of her inflamed Af“ fection.” If I. miffake not, our Poet has play'd with this Thought, of the Powers being refin’d by the Passions, in feveral other of his Plays. His Clown, in As you like it, seems sensible of this Refinement ; but, talking in his own Way, interprets it a fort of Frantickness.
We, that are true Lovers, run into strange Capers ; but as All is mortal in Nature, so is all Nature in Love mörtal in Folly.
Again, in Troilus and Cresida, the latter expresses herself concerning Grief, exactly as Laertes does here of Nature.
The Grief is fine, full, perfect, that I tasté ;
til But Jago, in Othello, delivers himself much more directly to the Purpose of the Sentiment here before us.
Gome hither, if thou bee'A valiant; as they say, base Men, being in Love, si batre thém-c Nobility in their Natures more than is native to them.
Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays : you may wear your rue with a difference. There's a dafie ; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father dy'd: they say, he made a good end';
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. !
Oph. And will be not come again?
And will be not come again?
No, no, he is dead, go to thj death-bed, - He never will come again. night. His beard was as white as (note, 11: i All flaxen was his pole :
He is gone, be is gone, and we cast away mone,
Gramercy on his soul ! And of all christian souls ! God b'w'ye.! [Exit Ophelia.
Laer. Do you see this, you Gods !
King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Laer. Let this be fo.
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heav'n to earth,
2 King. So you shall : .
Hor. Let them come in.
you, Sir : It comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
Hor. reads the letter. ORATIO, when thou malt have overlook'd this, give
these fellows fome means to the King : they bave letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chace. Finding our selves too how of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant they got clear of our ship, so I alone became their prisoner. They bave dealt with me, like thieves of mercy ; but they knew what they did. I am to do a good turn for them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much baste as thou wouldest fly death. I have words to speak in thy ear, will make thee dumb ; yet are they much too light for the matter. These good fellows will bring thee wbere I
Rosincrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England. Of them I have much to tell thee, farewel.
He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.
Come, I will make you way for these your letters ;
Enter King, and Laertes.
have heard, and with a knowing ear,
Laer. It well appears. But tell me,
King. Two special reasons,
Laer. And so have I a noble father lost,