To give these mourning duties to your father:
But you must know, your father lost a father;
That father, his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term,

To do obsequious sorrow.

But to persevere
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness, unmanly grief.
It shows a will most incorrect to Heav'n,
A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple, and unschool'd:
For what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? fie! 'tis a fault to Heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry'd,
From the first corse till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you throw to earth
This unprevailing wo, and think of us
As of a father; for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And with no less nobility of love,

Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart tow'rd you. For your intent
In going back to school at Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
I pr'ythee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, Madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the King's rouse the heav'n shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away. [Exeunt.

Ham. Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! oh, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank, and
gross
in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not so much; not two;—
So excellent a king, that was to this,

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n

Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Must I remember-why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on; yet, within a month,—

Let me not think on't-Frailty, thy name is Woman !— A little month! or ere those shoes were old,

With which she follow'd my poor father's body,

Like Niobe, all tears-she married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month-
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good,

But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

SHAKSPEARE

SCENE-HORATIO, HAMLET, MARCELLUS, AND BERNARDO.

Hor. Hail to your Lordship!
Ham. I am glad to see you well;

Horatio, or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with

you:

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus !

Mar. My good lord.

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good morning, sir, But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no truant;
But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pry'thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage-tables. 'Would I had met my dearest foe in heav'n, Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father-methinks I see my father. Hor. Oh, where, my lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight
Ham. Saw! who?-

Hor. My lord, the King your father.
Ham. The King my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while,

With an attentive ear; till I deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encountered: A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pie,

Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; while they (distill'd
Almost to jelly with th' effect of fear)

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Y

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes. I knew your father:
These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But answer made it none.

Yet once methought

It lifted up its head, and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak:

But even then the morning cock crew loud;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me,

Hold you the watch to-night?

Both. We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Both. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Both. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there!

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham. Very like. Staid it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hun

dred.

Both. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw't.

Ham. His beard was grizzled? No.

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Ham. I'll watch to-night; perchance 'twill walk again.

noble father's person,

Hor. I warrant you, it will.
Ham. If it assume my
I'll speak to it, tho' hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still :
And whatsoever shall befall to-night,
Give it an understanding but no tongue;
I will requite your loves: so fare ye well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve
I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. My father's spirit in arms! all is not well.

[Exeunt.

I doubt some foul play: 'would the night were come !
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

[Exit.

-SHAKSPEARE.

SPEECH OF THE HONOURABLE CHARLES SUMNER AGAINST THE FUGITIVE SLAVE BILL, IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, AUGUST 26, 1852.

SIR,-The existing Slave Act cannot be enforced without violating the precept of Washington. Not merely " uneasy sensations of well-disposed persons," but rage, tumult, commotion, mob, riot, violence, death, gush from its fatal overflowing fountains.

Not a case occurs without endangering the public peace. Workmen are brutally dragged from employments to which they are wedded by years of successful labour; husbands are ravished from wives, and parents from children. Every where there is disturbance; at Detroit, Buffalo, Harrisburg, Syracuse, Philadelphia, New York, Boston. At Buffalo, the fugitive was cruelly knocked by a log of wood against a red hot stove, and his mock trial commenced while the blood still oozed from his wounded head. At Syracuse, he was rescued by a sudden mob; so also at Boston. At Harrisburg, the fugitive was shot; at Christiana, the slave-hunter was shot. At New York, unprecedented excitement, always with uncertain consequences, has attended every case. Again, at Boston, a fugitive, according to the received report, was first basely seized under pre