Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; We have already observed that there is not any apparent circumstance in the fate or situation of Hamlet, that should prompt him to harbour one thought of self-murder; and therefore these expressions of despair imply an impropriety in point of character. But supposing his condition was truly desperate, and he saw no possibility of repose but in the uncertain harbour of death, let us see in what manner he argues on that subject. The question is, "To "be, or not to be;" to die by my own hand or live and suffer the miseries of life. He proceeds to explain the alternative in these terms, "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, or endure the frowns of fortune, or to take arms, and by opposing, end them." Here he deviates from his first proposition, and death is no longer the question. The only doubt is, whether he will stoop to misfortune, or exert his faculties in order to surmount it. This surely is the obvious meaning, and indeed the only meaning that can be implied in these words, Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer He now drops this idea, and reverts to his reasoning on death, in the course of which he owns himself deterred from suicide by the thoughts of what may follow death; ..the dread of something after death (That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne This might be a good argument in a Heathen or Pagan, and such indeed Hamlet really was; but Shakespeare has already represented him as a good Catholic, who must have been acquainted with the truths of revealed religion, and says expressly in this very play, ........had not the Everlasting fix'd Moreover, he had just been conversing with his father's spirit piping hot from purgatory, which we presume is not within the bourne of this world. The dread of what may happen after death (says he) Makes us rather bear those ills we have, This declaration at least implies some knowledge of the other world, and expressly asserts, that there must be ills in that world, though what kind of ills they are, we do not know. The argument therefore may be reduced to this lemma: this world abounds with ills which I feel: the other world abounds with ills, the nature of which I do not know therefore, I will rather bear those ills I have, "than fly to others which I know not of :" a deduction amounting to a certainty, with respect to the only circumstance that could create a doubt, namely, whether in death he should rest from his misery; and if he was certain there were evils in the next world, as well as in this, he had no room to reason at all about the matter. What alone could justify his thinking on this subject, would have been the hope of flying from the ills of this world, without encountering any others in the next. Nor is Hamlet more accurate in the following reflection: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. A bad conscience will make us cowards; but a good conscience will make us brave. It does not appear that any thing lay heavy on his conscience; and from the premises we cannot help inferring, that conscience in this case was entirely out of the question. Hamlet was deterred from suicide by a full conviction, that in flying from one sea of troubles which he did know, he should fall into another which he did not know. His whole chain of reasoning therefore seems inconsistent and incongruous. "I am doubtful whether I should live, or do violence upon my own life: for I know not whether it is more honourable to bear misfortune patiently, than to exert myself in opposing misfortune, and by opposing, end it." Let us throw it into the form of a syllogism, it will stand thus: "I am oppressed with ills: I know not whether it is more honourable to bear those ills patiently, or to end them by taking arms against them; ergo, I am doubtful whether I should slay myself or live. To die, is no more than to sleep? and to say that by a sleep we end the heart-ach, &c. "tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd." Now, to say it, was of no consequence unless it had been true. "I am afraid of the dreams that may happen in that sleep of death; and I choose rather to bear those ills I have in this life, than fly to other ills in that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller ever returns. I have ills that are almost insupportable in this life. I know not what is in the next, because it is an undiscovered country: ergo, I'd rather bear those ills I have, than fly to others which I know not of." Here the conclusion is by no means warranted by the premises. "I am sore afflicted in this life; but I will rather bear the afflictions of this life, than plunge myself in the afflictions of another life: ergo, conscience makes cowards of us all." But this conclusion would justify the logician in saying, negatur consequens; for it is entirely detached both from the major and minor proposition. This Soliloquy is not less exceptionable in the propriety of expression, than in the chain of argumentation....." To - die....to sleep....no more," contains an ambiguity, which all the art of punctuation cannot remove; for it may signify that "to die, is to sleep no more;" or the expression.... "no more," may be considered as an abrupt apostrophe in thinking, as if he meant to say...." no more of that reflection." 66 Ay, there's the rub"....is a vulgarism beneath the dignity of Hamlet's character, and the words that follow leave the sense imperfect: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, Must give us pause. Not the dreams that might come, but the fear of what dreams might come, occasioned the pause or hesitation. Respect in the same line may be allowed to pass for consideration: but Th' oppressor's wrong; the proud man's contumely, according to the invariable acceptation of the words wrong and contumely, can signify nothing but the wrongs sustained by the oppressor, and the contumely or abuse thrown upon the proud man; though it is plain that Shakespeare used them in a different sense: neither is the word spurn a substantive, yet as such he has inserted it in these lines: The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes. If we consider the metaphors of the Soliloquy we shall find them jumbled together in a strange confusion. If the metaphors were reduced to painting, we should find it a very difficult task, if not altogether impracticable, to represent with any propriety outrageous Fortune using her slings and arrows, between which indeed there is no sort of analogy in Nature. Neither can any figure be more ridiculously absurd than that of a man taking arms against a sea, exclusive of the incongruous medley of slings, arrows, and seas, justled within the compass of one reflection. What follows is a strange rhapsody of broken images, of sleeping, dreaming, and shifting off a coil, which last conveys no idea, that can be represented on canvas. A man may be exhibited shuffling off his garments or his chains: but how he should shuffle off a coil, which is another term, for noise and tumult, we cannot comprehend. Then we have "long-lived Calamity,” and "Time armed with whips and scorns;" and " patient Merit spurned at by Unworthiness ;" and "Misery with a bare bodkin going to make his own quietus," which at best is but a mean metaphor. These are followed by Figures "sweating under fardles of burdens," "puzzled with doubts," 99 66 shaking with fears," and "flying from evil." Finally, we see "Resolution sicklied o'er with pale thought," a conception like that of representing health by sickness; and a "current of pith turned away so as to lose the name of action," which is both an error in fancy, and a solecism in sense. In a word, this Soliloquy may be compared to the Ægri somnia, and the Tabula, cugus vane fingentur species. But while we censure the chaos of broken, incongruous metaphors, we ought also to caution the young Poet against the opposite extreme of pursuing a metaphor, until the spirit of it is quite exhausted in a succession of cold conceits; such as we see in the following letter, said to be sent by Tamerlane to the Turkish Emperor Bajazet. "Where "is the monarch that dares oppose our arms! Where is "the potentate who doth not glory in being numbered 66 among our vassals? As for thee, descended from a Tur66 coman mariner, since the vessel of thy unbounded am"bition hath been wrecked in the gulph of thy self-love, it "would be proper that thou shouldest furl the sails of thy 66 temerity, and cast the anchor of repentance in the port "of sincerity and justice, which is the harbour of safety: "lest the tempest of our vengeance make thee perish in the 66 sea of that punishment thou hast deserved." But if these laboured conceits are ridiculous in poetry, they are still more inexcusable in prose; such as we find them frequently occur in Strada's Bellum Belgicum. Vix descenderat à prætoria navi Cæsar ; cùm fæda ilico exorta in portu tempestas, classem impetu disjecit prætoriam hausit ; quasi non vecturam amplius Cæsarem Cæsarisque fortunam. "Cæsar had scarcely set his feet on shore, when a terrible tempest arising shattered the fleet even in the harbour, and sent to the bottom the Prætorian ship, as if resolved it should no longer carry Cæsar and his fortunes." Yet this is modest in comparison of the following flowers: Alii, pulsis è tormento catenis discerpti sectique, dimidiato corpore pugnabant sibi superstites, ac perempte |