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O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia !
O heaven! is't possible, å young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love; and, where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

They bore him barefac'd on the bier ;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey ponny;

And in his grave rained many a tear ;-
Fare you well, my dove!

Laertes. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.

Ophelia. You must sing, Down a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.

Laertes. This nothing's more than matter.

Ophelia. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; ʼpray you love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Laertes. A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted ! Ophelia. There's fennel for


and columbines :-there's rue for you; and here's some for me:-we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays:you may wear your rue with a difference.—There's a daisy ;-I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died ;They say, he made a good end, For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

[Sings. Laertes. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness. Ophelia. And will he not come again ?

[Sings. And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead,

Go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.

His beard was white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll :

He is gone, he is gone,

And we cast away moan ;
God 'a mercy on his soul !

And of all Christian souls ; I pray God. God be wi’ you!

HAMLET.-Act IV. Sccnc V.


Laerte. O rose de mai! fille bien-aimée, tendre sæur, chère Ophélie! -0 ciel! se peut-il que la raison d'une jeune fille soit aussi fragile que la vie d'un vieillard ? La nature a, dans son amour, comme un parfum subtil et rare, dont les émanations s'attachent à ce qu'elle aime.

Ophélie chante :
La face découverte ils l'ont mis dans sa bière,

Et sur sa tombe ils ont versé des pleurs.
Adieu, mon tourtereau.

Laerte. Tu posséderais toute ta raison et tu m'animerais à la vengeance, qu tu ne pourrais à ce point m'émouvoir. Ophélie. Il faut que vous chantiez:

Et allons donc,

Descendez donc.

Oh! il faut entendre chanter cela par la fileuse à son rouet; c'est la romance de l'intendant déloyal qui enleva la fille de son maître.

Laerte. Ces riens-la en disent plus que des choses sensées.

Ophélie. (A Laërte, en lui présentant une fleur.) Voilà du romarin c'est la fleur du souvenir. Souvenez-vous de moi, je vous prie, mon bien-aimé; et voici des pensées; c'est pour que vous pensiez à moi.

Laerte. Il y a du sens dans son délire. Elle vient d'appliquer à propos la pensée et le souvenir.

Ophélie. (Au Roi.) Voilà pour vous du fenouil et des colombines. A la Reine.) Voilà de la rue pour vous, et en voici pour moi :pour vous ce sera l'herbe de grâce, pour moi l'herbe de douleur.Voici une marguerite.—Je voudrais bien vous donner des violettes, mais elles se sont toutes fanées quand mon père est mort:-on dit qu'il a fait une bonne fin ;

(Elle chante :)

Car Robin fait toute ma joie. Laerte. La mélancolie, l'affliction, la colére, l'enfer lui-même, tout devient charmant en passant par sa bouche.

HAMLET.-Acte IV. Scène V.

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.“ Capulet! Montague! See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,

That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love." The scene of Romeo and Juliet is laid at Verona; and by the prologue we are informed that a deadly feud exists between two ancient and noble families, which is so rancorous in its hatred as to spread its infection amongst the menials even of each house. CAPULET and MontAGUE, the respective parents of JULIET and Romeo, are the heads of the households; and they are introduced in the first act, together with their wives, as heading an affray between their dependents.

ROMEO, after being smitten in love with ROSALINE, by way of smothering his passion, accompanies his friend Benvolio to the house of CAPULET, and thus meets with JULIET. Being masked, his presence is unnoticed, until, by his voice, TYBALT, the cousin of JULIET, discovers him. TYBALT, anxious to gratify his revenge, would have fought him in the midst of the feast, but is restrained by CAPULET. JULIET and Romeo fall passionately in love with each other; she recognises him as a Montague, and instinctively sees the strange fatality which has befallen her.

By the assistance of her nurse, and the stratagems of lovers, ROMEO visits her; and having pledged mutual affection, they agree to meet at the cell of Friar LAURENCE on the morrow, who then marries them. They immediately part, to meet again at night; but meanwhile ROMEO, becoming involved in a quarrel with TYBALT, kills him. For this he is sentenced to perpetual banishment from Verona. JULIET's nurse conveys the sad news to her; and this gives the dramatist scope for displaying his full power in depicting the frenzy of human passion. JULIET is represented at first as overcome with the death of her cousin, and by the deceit of ROMEO. She remembers, however, that she is a wife, and, recalling her indignant complaints, exclaims

“Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband !
Ah! poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,

When I, thy three hours' wife, have mangled it.” The Friar arranges for their meeting, so that Romeo may bid her a sad farewell; but, meanwhile, CAPULET is arranging a marriage between Julist and PARIS, who is an ardent suitor for her hand. Scarcely has ROMEO parted with her than her father insists on her marriage with PARIS. In vain she refuses; and finding all her remonstrance useless, seeks the aid of the FRIAR, who gives her a potion, by which she will be able to simulate death for a sufficient time to allow of ROMEO being sent for from Mantua. On the morning of her intended bridal day, she is discovered, as is thought, dead in her chamber, and her funeral takes the place of her marriage. Romeo, returning from Mantua on hearing of her death, visits her tomb, and is surprised by Paris, who had repaired thither to strew her grave with flowers. They fight, and Paris is killed; Romeo then swallows a deadly poison, and scarcely dies, when Juliet, awaking from her long sleep, discovers him lying by her. In an agony, she seizes his dagger, and dies bleeding on his corpse, after having vainly kissed his lips, that she might die from the poison that killed him.

The entire tragedy is replete with thrilling interest. The passionate fondness of the lovers; the terrible incidents which mar their lives, and cause their death; the rich painting of the vivid scenes in which Romeo and JULIET are placed ;-all are so powerfully realised, that we seem to live with them, and partake of their joys and sorrows, as if they had been our own,

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