last line, and place the verb in the potential mood, thus,

Lady, may I lie in your lap?

It struck me that this (at least the way he pronounced it,) had more of insinuation in it; and as we have got a great many readings of different parts of this celebrated poet, I mention this to the judicious actor for his perusal and observation. Had Hamlet at first said,

Lady, shall I lie at your feet?

it would have been all insinuation, and no waywardness. But spoken as it is, it indescribably gives us that mixture of politesse and forgetfulness, which it certainly was the author's intention to evince; nor can I by any means suppose that it was the intention of our author to give the following construction to this line, which construction, I have heard some say it bears, viz.

Lady, let me lie down at your feet, and then be kind enough to let me put my head in your lap;' and even though thus mentioned afterwards, (in some editions) it does not impugn the first reading of the line. It is awkward and distorted, nor does it evince any judgment in the writer. If we look at the line as above construed, it shows judgment (that pre-eminent quality) both in the cha

racter and the creator of it. The scene from which I have taken these lines, is in the third act. This and the fifth are the two hardest acts for a judicious performer to get through in this admirable drama. In them it is pre-eminently necessary

"To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art."

I have heard some advance, that the acting of Hamlet should all be governed by art. This is a dangerous argument to go on. If so, where is nature? If art governs the performer in his personation of Hamlet, then there is not the slightest use whatever in natural acting, which, I am simple and untutored enough to look on, as the greatest grace the chiefest ornament-the only recommendation to the finished actor. To be a finished actor, is, indeed, a hard thing; it requires collegiate education-gentlemanly manners-knowledge of the world—immense versatility of mindgenuine talent-and eminent taste and eminent jndgment. With these, a man can claim respect from an appreciating and discerning public, but without them, he treads hazardous ground, who attempts to personify Shakespeare and Otway, and has not the requisites I enumerate.

Shall I look on Hamlet (in parts of the play) in another character? If we allow his madness to

be assumed, (and I do not plainly see to the contrary) he appears in the light of an amateur performer. That he had a taste for the draina appears from his directions to the players-the action and emphasis (as well as the fidelity of his memory) in his quotation of Pyrrhus to the first actor and his desire to have the players well lodged, and properly provided for. This is another respect in which this character bears the impress of an original. There is no other play which has a character of this cast in it. There is no other author who has attempted to place his hero in this commanding and teaching position. He tells the others exactly, nay critically, what to do; so that if he fails himself in his part of the drama, he but brings greater judgment against himself—another reason why the character of Hamlet can never be performed by a would-be

actor.

I further spoke of much being expressed in a single line. This author has a wonderful facility in doing so. I here more particularly allude to the first lines which his characters speak, and these first lines are often extremely difficult to deliver. I adduce the following.

A little more than kin, and less than kind.

So foul and fair a day, I have not seen.

Three thousand ducats-Well?

It's better as it is.

I pray you, is Signor Montanto returned from the wars, or no?

My noble Lord, did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my Lady,

Know of your love?

(Theseus. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.)
Hermia. So is Lysander.

Is the day so young?-Ah me! sad hours seem long.

What shall I say?—I cannot bring my tongue

To such a pace.

What would ye have, ye curs, that like nor peace

nor war ?*

If it be love indeed tell me how much,

There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned.

A quick eye will instantly glean from looking at these lines (and comparing them with what surrounds them) the kinds of characters which follow. They are the prefaces, as it were, to the beautiful books of 66 men and manners which the creator opens to you; and with true discrimi

* This line (simple as it appears,) is, perhaps, the hardest in this drama to act. Coriolanus cannot be acted now. John Kemble is gone, and who is it that does not regret him.

nate tact with genuine insight into mankind, he shows you, even in a line (Oh, thou excelling poet!) the disposition, force, bent-the complete temperament of either the hero or heroine which he intends developing to the delighted eye, with either the vivid colouring of his boundless fancy, or the creative strokes of his almighty invention. I am not aware that this beautiful (but hidden) touch of THE MASTER has been noticed before. I think it eminently striking. It is a touch of nature which I have never discovered in the would-be poet. You are obliged to wade through his characters to try and make them out. master shows you at once what his creative pencil is going to develope on the glowing canvass-lets you in by this fine but hurried dash of that enchanting pencil what the scene and the character are to be which he is going to embody. Mark the intrusive question of the playful but proud Beatrice,

The

I pray you is Signor Montanto returned from the wars,

or no?

This question is put at a time when nobody in the company (mark this) was expecting the query; but her meddling spirit was busy-was on the stretch to hear about the very man whom she