Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them?-To die-to sleep-
No more! and by a sleep, to say, we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to;--'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.-To die-to sleep-

To sleep! perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.-There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time!
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud* man's contumely,
The pangs of despisedt love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death
(That undiscovered country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will—
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sieklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."

*The Folio reads-" the poor man's contumely;" the contumely which the poor man is obliged to endure.- Malone.

The Folio reads "pangs of disprized love;" meaning a love which is found to be unvalued or disregarded.—J. H. Hackett.

'We have already observed that there is not any apparent circumstance in the fate or situation of Hamlet, that should prompt him to harbor 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 harbor 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 the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take up arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, end them." 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 thought of what may follow death; "the dread of something after death (that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns.") 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 fixed his canon 'gainst self-murder?" Moreover, he has 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, Than fly to others that we know not of."

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, mainly, 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 anything 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 iife; for, I know not whether 'tis more honorable 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 'tis more honorable 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-ache,” etc., " is 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 the minor proposition.

"The 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.” "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,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause."