2312-48 Stubbs (1736, pp. 32-3): <p.32> “The King’s seeming so very much touch’d with a Sense of his Crime, is supposed to be owing to the Representa- </p.32><p.33> tion he had been present at; but I do not well see how Hamlet is introduced so as to find him at Prayers. It is not natural, that a King’s Privacy should be so intruded on, not even by any of his Family, especially, that it should be done without his perceiving it.” </p.33>

2312-48 Gentleman (1770, 1: 24): “The King’s soliloquy is a most finished piece of argumentative, pathetic contrition; and furnishes a very instructive picture of the guilty mind, of Hamlet’s, which immediately succeeds [3.3.73-95 (2350-70)] we cannot speak favourably, as it greatly derogates not only from an amiable but a common moral character.”

2312-48 Gentleman (ed. 1773): “This soliloquy of the King exhibits, in a fine show of poetical expression and just reasoning, the agitation of a guilty soul, wishing, but afraid, to look towards heaven; the strugglings of imperfect contrition, and the laborious, thorny state of a mind, so situated, and thus feelingly pictured, must make every sensible heart shrink.”

2312 O . . . ranck] Davies (1784, pp. 98-100): <p.98> “The King is just come from the representation of the play; where he has been struck with compunction from viewing the same act represented on the scene which he had himself committed,. His coming on with the </p.98><p.99> two courtiers, and the interruption of Polonius, are awkward incumbrances to his situation, and I think unnecessary, as the sending Hamlet to England had been determined by the King in a preceding scene [3.3.3-4 (2274-5)], and Polonius had already told his master he would be attentive to what passed between Hamlet and his mother [3.3.28-9 (2303-4)].

“Notwithstanding this admirable soliloquy of the King describes the struggles of conscience without contrition, and a dread of future punishment without remorse or penitence, and which, in my opinion, requires a very judicious speaker, yet the part of the King appears so odious, that the principal actors generally shun it, as the representation of a low and insidious villain, who wants spirit to support his assumed rank with dignity and maintain his usurpation by courage. Yet there are some situations of Claudius worthy the attention of an actor. His behaviour during the acting of the play before him, and the evident signs of guilt which he ought to shew in his counte- </p.99><p.100> nance [3.2.387-9 (2159-61)], require a skilful exhibition of conscious terror. Whoever is able to do justice to the sentiments of this soliloquy, and paint the horror of guilt resulting from the dread of a future reckoning, will be amply rewarded by his auditors.

“Some eminent actors, such as Keen, Quin, and Hulet, have not disdained to represent this character. When Ryan, at Lincoln’s-inn-fields theatre, appeared in Hamlet, to give strength to the play, Quin and Walker acted the inferior parts of the King and Horatio, and retained them from 1719 to 1734.” </p.100>

2312-48 Wesley (ms. notes in v1785): “Exquisitely fine. I know no passage in this or any other Authour where guilt verging on despair is so strongly and justly described.”

2312 Caldecott (ec. 1819): “Even there, where the odour of sacrifice only should rise, to the seat of the gods, its offensive steam reaches.”

2312-48 Coleridge (ms. notes 1819 in Ayscough, ed. 1807; rpt. Coleridge, 1998, 12.4:854-5): <p. 854>“The King’s Speech well marks the difference between Crime and Guilt of Habit. The Conscience is still admitted to Audience. Nay, even as an audible soliloquy, it is far less improbable than is supposed by such as </p. 854> <p. 855> have watched men only in the beaten road of their feelings.—But it deserves to be dwelt on, that final ‘All may be well’!—a degree of Merit attributed by the self-flattering Soul to its own struggle, tho’ baffled—and to the indefinite half-promise, half-command, to persevere in religious Duties. The divine Medium of the Christian Doctrine of Expiation—in the—Not what you have done, but what you are, must determine—Metanoia.”</p. 855>

2312-48 Strachey (1848, pp. 69-71): <p.69> “It gives a new and deeper interest to Hamlet’s device of the Play, that it has not only awakened his conscience, and given him a last call to repentance. In the King’s soliloquy . . . before he kneels down to pray, the metaphysical, moral, and Christian philosophy are equally deep and true. First, the condemnation of conscience, passing the sentence of God’s law on the criminal [quotes ‘O my offence . . . murder’ 3.3.36-8 (2312-4)]. Then the subsequent despair, from the consciousness of that awful truth, and the will, when once enslaved by sin, vainly desires to regain its freedom; and that the inclinations of that earthly nature which first suggested the sin for its own gratification, and now would but too gladly be freed from its share in the stings of conscience, are become as powerless for good, as they once were mighty for evil: [quotes ‘pray . . . neglect’ 3.3.38-43 (2314-9)], </p.69><p.70> in which last lines we may further observe the metaphysical accuracy not only of the distinction between inclination and will, but also of the illustration of that moral state in which the will, being enslaved, has lost its self-originating, willing, power.—Then follows the comforting recollection of the infiniteness of divine mercy, and that one very purpose for which prayer is appointed, is to obtain mercy for past guilt: [quotes “what if . . . past,” 3.3.43-51 (2319-27)]. But again the consciousness returns that his guilt has become his master, and that its chain cannot be broken: for he feels that it is a chain, though a golden one, and one which his now slavish nature hugs, because it is made ‘Of those effects for which he did this murder, His crown, his own ambition, and his queen’ [3.3.55 (2331)]. And to this consciousness of the loss of free-will, follows again the sense of responsibility to a Law and Judge that no gold can bribe, and no arts deceive: [quotes “In . . . evidence,’ 3.3.57-64 (2333-40)]. We often talk of nature as a chain of causes and effects; </p.70><p.71> and we use the expression in its deepest sense, and have the clearest illustration of it, in this its moral aspect; in which we see the causes and effects of crime (which is the submission to the evil inclinations of nature) forming an endless succession of links, each indissolubly knit into that which precedes and that which follows, and the whole binding down that human will which ought to possess a godlike freedom, and power to originate its own acts at every moment. If the guilty King could only take the first step, he feels that every other would be easy, but to take that first is impossible: he tries every link of the chain, one after another, but each is too fast to the rest, to be broken: the possibility of loosening any one, depends on the possibility of previously loosening that which goes before:—‘Try what repentance can: What can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?’ [3.3.65-6 (2341-2)]. As it has been said, ‘pardon is promised as the consequence of repentance, but is repentance promised as the consequence of sin?’

“Thus the whole soliloquy of the King shows him going backwards and forwards, to this side and to that, vainly seeking deliverance: [quotes “O wretched . . . ingaged,” 3.3.67-9 (2343-5)]. ‘But the final ’all may be well!’ is remarkable;—the degree of merit attributed by the self-flattering soul to its own struggle, though baffled, and to the indefinite half-promise, half-command, to persevere in religious duties. The solution is in the divine medium of the Christian doctrine of expiation:—not what you have done, but what you are, must determine.’” </p.71>

2312 smels to heauen] Dyce (1853, p. 142): “So Petrarch; ‘Or vivi sì che a Diol ne venga il lezzo.’ Sonetto civ. And see also Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, c. xviii, st. 23.”

2312-48 Miles (1870, p. 53): “Remorse, instilled by bodily fear, has driven the drunkard murderer to attempt repentance.”

2312-48 Marshall (1875, p. 45): “When the King is by himself, he gives expression to that remorse which was secretly preying on his heart. The distinction between repentance and remores is most clearly and beautifully drawn [quotes ‘but oh what . . . well,’ [3.3.51-72 (2327-48)].

“While he is kneeling in the agony of prayer which is stifled by the consciousness of its insincerity, Hamlet enters unseen by the King.”

2312-48 Gervinus (1877, p. 554): “Almost every sentence of [the king’s] soliloquy bears a comparison with the state of Hamlet’s mind, in whom the duty of revenge exists in the same proportion as in Claudius the duty of repentance. The hypocritical murderer stands wavering between his deed and his repentance, just as Hamlet does between the deed and his revenge. The king has the will to pray, as Hamlet has to punish; but the impulse of their nature accords not with their task; ‘the stronger guilt defeats the strong intent’ of the praying man, the extreme of conscientiousness causes the backward ebb of the avenger’s passion even when it has begun to flow. Thus it is with both, as Claudius says, that they ‘like men to double business bound, stand in pause where they shall first begin, and both neglect,’ He knows that heaven is rich in mercy, but he finds no means of obtaining it; just as Hamlet sees the path of punishment prescribed to him by Heaven, and in his softness dares not tread it. ‘Whereto serves mercy,’ asks Claudius—whereto serves punishment, might Hamlet also ask, ‘but to confront the visage of offence?’ The twofold force of prayer is ‘To be forstall’d, ere we come to fall, Or pardon’d being down;’ and similarly might Hamlet say immediately afterwards, when Claudius lays a snare for his life, the twofold force of retribution is to punish the crime accomplished and to prevent its repetition. The king attempts the penitential prayer which he has at heart, yet there is not that active repentance at work which would lead him to renounce at once the possession of the crown and of the queen; so Hamlet attempts revenge, but conscientiousness effects in him that which hardness of heart does in the king, that he cannot bring his will to action. Repentance can do all things, says Claudius, ‘yet what can it, when one cannot repent?’ So Hamlet gives all scope to revenge, but the avenger himself is lacking. The king’s soul, entangled in the meshes of crime, strives to free itself, and becomes more and more ensnared; Hamlet’s excited feelings seem impatient of restraint, while all the more surely he is held captive by procrastination.”

2312-48 Oxon (1881, p. 51-2): <p.51> “What a splendid tribute is this to the beauty and the happiness of innocence! What a ghastly picture is it of </p.51><p.52> the miseries and unavailing struggles of a soul doomed to die in conscious crime!

“Well may we say of Claudius that—’He found no place for repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.’” </p.52>

2312-4 O my offence . . . murther] Deighton (ed. 1891): “O, my crime, the murder of a brother, is so foul that the taint of it has reached the very heavens, and on it rests the curse pronounced upon Cain.”

2312-4 O my offence . . . murther] Werder (1907; rpt. 1977, pp. 142-143): <p.142 > “Then he goes to his mother, and on the way Hamlet finds the King at prayer—the King who here, for the first time, makes a verbal con- </p.142> <p.143> fession before us that he is the murderer while confessing the crime to himself.” </p.143>

2312-4 O my . . . murther] Kittredge (ed. 1939, Introduction, p. xix): <p. xix> “Claudius is often regarded as a moral monster—selfish, calculating, passionless—subtle and cold as a serpent. From such an error we are rescued by one of the supreme passages in all Shakespeare—the King’s soliloquy after ‘The Mousetrap’ has caught his conscience [cites passage]. In this soliloquy Claudius unlocks his soul. It reveals him not only as passionately remorseful—with a heart in no wise cauterized by crime3—but as so clear-sighted, so pitiless in analysis of his own offences and of the motives that actuated them, that he cannot juggle his conscience.” </p. xix>

<n3><p. xix> “3Compare the King’s ‘aside’ in [3.1.48-53 (1701-6)], which prepares us for the soliloquy.” </p. xix></n>

2312-48 Rylands (ed. 1947): “See n. [3.3.1 (2272)].”

2312 ranck, it smels to heauen] Joseph (1953, p. 68) stresses the importance for Elizabethans of the sense of smell, quoting Hall [Works 5.65] on the association of rank smells with hypocrisy. In Pharisaism and Christianity, Hall blasts the hypocrite who “canst not touch, not name goodness, but thou defilest it . . . Though thou wert wrapped in gold, and perfumed with never so loud prayers, holy semblances, honest protestations; yet thou art but noisome carrion to God.” [Works 5. 17].

2312 Alexander (1955, p. 25) criticizes a current stage production for having the king enter with pot and cup and drink a couple of stiff ones before beginning. Alexander thinks the king must be sober during the prayer scene, however he had been characterized in the play-within scene.

2312-48 Evans (ed. 1974): “See the Textual Notes for the corresponding lines in Q1.”

2312-48 Spencer (ed. 1980): “This is the first time we see the King alone and the only occasion we have a full confession from him (but see [3.1.50-3 (1703-6)]). The conscience-stricken King, unlike Hamlet, Knows his theological position exactly, and argues about his situation with clarity of mind. Ironically, only after Hamlet’s departure (with the same erroneous belief as ourselves) do we learn that the King has not achieved a state of grace.”

2312 ranck] Wilkes (ed. 1984): “rank [3.2.257 (2127)].”

2312-48 Thompson & Taylor (ed. 2006): “In Q1, this speech begins, ’O that this wet that falles upon my face / Would wash the crime cleere from my conscience’, perhaps indicating that in some early stagings the King appeared to weep as he spoke. Angelo in MM has a comparable soliloquy in which he comments on his failure to repent and pray (2.4.1-17).”

2312 rank] Thompson & Taylor (ed. 2006): “offensive, foul-smelling; see other uses of rank and ranker at 1.2.136; 2.1.20; 3.2.250; 3.4.90, 146 and 150; 4.4.21.”