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his deep vow of fidelity to that pathetic charge:

"O, all yon host of heaven!" &c.

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Act I., Scene 5.

In the third solitary outpouring of his soul, the Prince thus severely upbraids himself with his unworthy silence and inaction, by contrasting it with the passionate energy of the Players; although his was a real, theirs a merely fictitious occasion of sorrow :

"O what a rogue, and peasant slave am I," &c.

Act II., Scene 2.

In his next and most celebrated soliloquy, Hamlet, sick of life, in the distraction of his spirit, speaks as one who, hovering over the dread abyss of self-destruction, is restrained and rescued by the awful apprehension of a future state. It is the voice of unrenovated Nature; a melancholy contrast to the happy view of the state after death, opened by Him who has abolished death, illumined Immortality; and delivered those who, through the fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage !—

“To be, or not to be," &c.

Act III., Scene 1.

Yet one more of these noble reveries there is, in which Prince Hamlet confesses himself stung and shamed by the material spirit, and self-devotion of Prince Fortinbras and his troops, as before by the artificial vehemence of the Players, contrasted with his own coward-like inactivity. It presents us with one more example of Shakspeare's mind, ever collecting its full strength and brightness in soliloquy :

"How all occasions do inform against me," &c.

Act IV., Scene 4.

And, thus, in these few selections of Shakspeare's moral excellence, I have given but a scantling of the profusion that remains untouched for our leisurely enjoyment Over the pages of Hamlet, the moral lessons lie as thickly sown, as the poetic beauties. The wonderful, awful ghost-scene, awakens the presentiment of that unseen, retributory state of departed

spirits, which most are propense to forget, but which all are concerned to remember. The very fine dialogue between Hamlet and his mother affords a model for the confessional, and shows (important exhibition,) a guilty conscience trembling (like that of Felix) before the accusing preacher. As Dr. Johnson majestically rounds one of his sonorous periods, in his Preface to Shakspeare: " the grave-diggers themselves may be heard with applause!" Yes, they supply a rich contrast to Hamlet; the contrast of low-bred, and reckless mirth, to refined and thoughtful melancholy; while they cast up the skull of the King's late jester, Yorick, and occasion that admired burst of comedy and tragedy.

Read by persons of all classes, Shakspeare has long been, and probably will always be-a household book, "of all sorts enchantingly beloved." The thing to be desired is, that he should be read (as I am persuaded he may be) with blended profit and delight; so read, at our quiet homes; instead of his beauties being marred, and his influence adulterated, with theatrical alloy. To promote this has been my chief aim in giving these Remarks to the public; in which I have shown that those who read Shakspeare are not condemned to gather straw; but that amidst the straw they may continually light on pearls and diamonds; those who converse with the most wonderful of Poets, "fram'd in the prodigality of Nature," are not condemned to starve on husks; but, amidst the husks, they may feast on rich and invigorating fare.

"Poets," says Horace, "purpose either to profit or delight." That Shakspeare is, what he aimed to be, a delightful writer, all are agreed. That he is, or rather that, duly read, he may become, (whether he aimed to be so or not,) a profitable writer, is what I have desired to show and to enforce. Should I have gained my purpose ;-should I have stimulated any henceforward to read Shakspeare for instruction, as well as for amusement; for his wisdom as well as for his wit; for his moral sentiment, and practical philosophy, as well as for his imaginative and impassioned poetry, these Remarks will not have been penned in vain.

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Miscellaneous Shaksperiana.

"That which he hath writ,

Is with such judgment labour'd and distill'd
Through all the needful uses of our life,
That could a man remember but his lines,
He should not touch on any serious point,
But he might breathe his spirit out of him :-
His learning savours not the school-like gloss
That most consists in echoing words and terms,
And soonest wins a man an empty name;
Nor any long or far-fetch'd circumstance;
But a direct and analytic sum

Of all the worth and first effects of arts:
And for his poesy, 'tis so cramm'd with life,
That it shall gather strength of life with being,
And live hereafter more admir'd than now."

BEN JONSON.

SHAKSPERIAN CENTOS.

There is scarce a topic of remark, or a situation of life, which has not been finely touched by Shakspeare, and of which we might not speak in his language. Innumerable modes of illustrating our wonderful and universally-beloved Poet have tasked and displayed the research and ingenuity of his studious admirers. One method there is, which I do not remember to have seen tried; viz., the piecing together in a cento those varied expressions of the same image or sentiment, which lie scattered far and wide over his pages. The following experimental specimens of this Shaksperian patchwork may possibly interest some, and stimulate others to try for themselves the

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