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I was

Sure to break forth as soon as the favorable opportunity

presents itself And astonish the world perhaps with a second

going to say Don Juan, But, as I hate hyperbole and love to be within the mark, I 'll say -- with a second Thalaba or Antient Mariner or Ex

cúrsion; Glorious consummation! which the kind Fates have, no doubt,

in resérve for you If in the meantime you 're content to live upon hope, and

don't too much economize mídnight oil.

[HEIDELBERG, July 26, 1855.]

“OBÉY;” said Majority once to Minority; “To be súre," said Minority, “fór thou 'rt the strongest.” “Not because I the strongest am," answered Majority, “But because I 'm the wisest, it 's thine to obey." “Right again,” said Minority hiding a slý smile, “Wise men álways were númerous, fools always féw.”

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DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY, April 1, 1855.

BEWÁRE how you attempt the world to cheat,
Lést yourself súffer by your own deceit:
You cheat the world; back from the world to you
Retúrns your lie and you believe it true.

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"SEE before thee," said Hópe, “where the pleasant light

yónder, More bright every moment, disperses the darkness.” But Fear cried: “Beware! for the light but looks brighter Becaúse, on all sides round, the darkness so deépens.”

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DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY, April 1, 1855.

WITH pållid lip quivering and fiery eye fláshing,
Wrath rúshed on his victim and brándished the knife;
But Píty with noiseless step stóle up behind him
And wrenched the blade from him and smiled in his fáce.

DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY, April 1, 1855.

Pást Time 's dead and gone, and búried, and the requiem

sung over her; FÚTURE Time 's not born yet, and who knows how úgly she

may be?

So give me a kiss, sweet PRÉSENT, and let ’s háppy be together Óne, two, three, and begin again thou 'rt the girl for mý






The king of Denmark 's múrdered by his brother;
The brother dons his crown, marries his widow;
Nó one suspects the deed, till at deep midnight
The ghost, in suit complete of burnished steel,
From purgatory comes and fires sulphureous
To tell his son, young Hamlet, the whole story,
And rouse his youthful blood to similar deed.
The prince falls into a mighty, towering passion,
And hates mankind, and wishes he was dead,
And damns his uncle, and will surely kill him,
Nót at his prayers, for not to heaven he'd send him,
Bút in the midst of some unfinished lust
Fall on him and direct to hell despatch him.
Slow on the hot resolve follows the deed
Límping, for wisely thus the youth bethinks him:
Hów, if my wicked uncle kill me first,
Mé ere I hím? where then were my revenge,
The credit and the glory of this deed,
The duty to my parent and my parent's
Unhappy ghost, my piety toward heaven,
The example to the world, and to my mother
The lash of scorpions, wielded by her son ?
For I 've no son to whom if I were murdered
Mý ghost might come to hie him on to murder
My murderer; and if I had such son,
How can I know he would believe my ghost?
Which gives me room to think: what if this ghost
I saw last night were not my father's ghost,
But some malignant spirit sent from hell

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With lies to tempt me to my uncle's murder.
So charily, good Hamlet; softly tread;
Tést the ghost's tále, and táke care of thy head.


And so most careful cautious of his head
Hámlet goes mad, for kings suspect not madmen,
And many a wise and many a mad thing says,
Wíse at this moment, raving mad the next;
And, lighting by good fortune on a pack
Of strolling players, sets about to teach them
With such consummate skill their


art That you are tempted to accuse dame Nature Of having by some blunder made a king's son, When she had taken in hand to make a player. Pláywriter, next, and manager become, The versatile youth into his players' play Intércalates the scene of his father's murder. The uncle blenches; the ghost's credit 's stamped; But, láck a day! the unlucky birdcatcher, Júst as he thinks he has but to bag his bird, Falls into his own springe and is bagged himself, And off to England à la Bellerophon packed; But not before in one of his feigned fits He has killed his truelove's, sweet Ophelia's, father, Taking him for the king, and her chaste ear, His ówn Ophelia's innocent, chaste ear, With ribaldry polluted and audacious, Counterfeit madness, till he drives her mad, And in a pond, poor soul! she drowns herself, Singing lorn ditties, and one true heart adds Tó the long count of true hearts cracked by love.

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Meantime not idly in his cabin chewing
The tedium of his voyage sits young Hamlet,

But, seizing occupation pat at hand,
The seal breaks of his uncle's missives – reads,
Ånd to the deep consigns, his own death - warrant,
And with a ready, fair, and clerklike hand,
Fór he's a clérk too, writes out the death - warrant
Of his escort, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern;
Fórges the king's sign manual, and affixes
The royal seal; and, having scarce taken time
To palm upon his escort the forged packet,
Jumps into a boarding pirate and is carried
Sólus to Denmark back; bidding God speed
And safe return home, to the two brave youths,
The interesting Danish Siamese twins,
Good Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern,
Who, holding on their voyage, and delivering
To England's majesty the fraternal missives,
By England's majesty have their heads instanter
And without further ceremony chopped off
Hurráh for England! more power to thee, Hamlet!

The first act of our story with a ghost,
A grisly ghost, began; come with me now,
Kind reader, that is if thou 'rt not afraid,
Ínto a churchyard where good Christians lie
Waiting the final trump to rise to glory.
Hére in his splenetic mood arrives young Hamlet,
And standing on the edge of the deep grave
That 's waiting for his injured, sweet Ophelia,
Begins to crack jokes with the base grave-diggers,
Make puns, say witty things, and moralize
Át the expense of frail humanity's relics,
Till the corpse comes; then down into the grave
Leaps in the desperation of his sorrow,
And, collared on the coffin by the brother,

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