which shall surpass these for truth and nature. I know nothing more moving nothing more mournful than these slight, evanescent, but inimitable touches of misery and madness. She is introduced with flowers-ever the delight of the madwoman-and she gives fennel to the kingrue to the queen-and rue to herself (correctly,) and then she says that she would give them some violets, but (mark the exquisite turn) They wither'd all when my father died!" she then kneels down and sings, still repeating and still turning on the same question. The reader will please mark the abstraction of the third line. She sings it to herself; and as if she forgot all the gaudy and gorgeous personages around her, tells herself to go and lie down on her death bed! because,

He never will come again!

66

I scarcely know where Shakespeare appears more eloquent in this play, than in this inimitable sketch of the fond, timid, deep loving, brain-warped Ophelia. He has drawn her a beautiful young creature with fond feelings and gentle disposition -unknown in the ways of the world, and as it were, unconscious of the charms and the beauty she possessed. Her heart is captivated by that most noble and eminently finished portrait, which

he has chosen for the hero of his play, and so alive is she to anything that concerns him, that even the feigning of madness in the object of her affections, strikes on her tender heart, and crushes it.* I here must not omit to turn to the first words which she utters, and I again find nature speaking:

Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

The word "beauteous" particularly strikes me. It is so fond and womanish, and also, so perfectly irrelevant and maniacal; for what woman in her senses would rush into a court and ask for a

* I adduce this as another instance of the difficulty that lies in performing Hamlet. He who cannot perform this scene inimitably well (personating madness) cannot carry on the illusion; for how can the mind suppose Ophelia to lose her senses, unless Hamlet makes her believe that he is mad. I again repeat that there is no character in Shakespeare, in the performance of which there is so much exquisite judgment required as that of Hamlet.

I also remark, that in one of Ophelia's songs, there is an incorrect rhyme. "Valentine" rhymes to "betime." This is the only instance of complete cacophony in the poetry of Shakespeare. It would be completely hypercritical to say, this was done purposely. It was done unknowingly, and proves the hurry in which the hard composed.

beauteous lover? But make her mad, and then see how appropriate is the adjective. Following the idea which is above suggested to me, I again turn to that part of the play where Ophelia is first introduced, and here I find her character developed (mark the power that sketched) in one short scene. I follow it throughout.

Ophelia and Laertes are introduced. The latter takes leave of her, and requests of her to write to him. She instantly replies with a sister's affection:

Do you doubt that?

I here remark, that instead of making a long speech to him, she answers him by interrogatory, at once short and sisterly. Her brother then proceeds to tell her of "Hamlet's favour," and cautions her from indulging in his fascinating society too much. The following is her replygentle and sensible.

I

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Whilst like a reckless libertine

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 5.
And recks not his own road.

Her father is here introduced, and having caught the last words of Ophelia to her brother, he asks what it was Laertes was advising her about. Ophelia, like a true woman, tries to evade the query, and timidly, merely glances at their discourse. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. This is another trait of character, and the actress who does not speak the line as above, speaks it incorrectly. Her father perceives she is somewhat avoiding him, and he accordingly says, "Give me up the truth." As she then must declare it, she tells the secret, and puts the word affection" in place of love. Mark the correct

ness of this,

He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Polonius rallies her on this, and says that she speaks like an inexperienced girl. He then asks her, if she could rely on the proffers he had made her? Her answer to this is a very master-piece of nature and character, and the reader will please observe, that both are distinct.

*..

I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

Can anything be more completely girlish-more sweetly feminine, than these simple words. Had she made a long speech on the (to her) important subject,

it would have disgusted any ear of taste; but this single and simple line is a touch of nature, than which I know nothing finer in the drama. proceed.

I

Polonius, on hearing her make this inexperienced declaration, tells her, that he will tell her "what to think." He desires her to be cautious in receiving the addresses of Hamlet, and informs her that she "has taken these tenders for true pay, which are not sterling." She instantly perceives that her father is about to discountenance the entire proceeding, and assuredly thinking that nothing could be dishonourable in the noble and finished courtier who had won her heart, she exclaims,

My Lord, he hath importuned me with love
In honourable fashion.

Polonius seems to laugh at her credulity, and says, “go to-go to." Again she harps on the word-again with the confiding fondness of youth and innocence, she tells of his vows and constancy.

And hath given countenance to his speech, my Lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

These are delightful touches from the pencil of the master. There are two things which I have