And here he writes-that he did buy a poison Mon. But I can give thee more: Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie; Poor sacrifices of our enmity! Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun for sorrow will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more wo, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [Exeunt. This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires. Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to (1) Mercutio and Paris. exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to repre sent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third Act, lest he should have been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed, without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, that more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gaiety, and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime. 1 The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted: he has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest. His comic scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit. JOHNSON. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Claudius, king of Denmark. Hamlet, son to the former king, and nephew to Marcellus, Francisco, a soldier. Gertrude, queen of Denmark, and mother of Hamlet. Ophelia, daughter of Polonius. Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other At tendants. Scene, Elsinore. HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. ACT I. SCENE 1.-Elsinore. A platform before the castle. Francisco on his post. Enter to him Bernardo. WHO'S there? Bernardo. Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold Yourself. Ber. Long live the king! Fran. Ber. Bernardo? He. Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. Ber. Have you had quiet guard? Fran. Ber. Well, good night. Not a mouse stirring. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals1 of my watch, bid them make haste, Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Fran. I think, I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? (1) Partners. |