Hor. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. O yes, my lord: he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, looked he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger,

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amazed you.

Ham. Very like, very like; stayed it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Ham. His beard was grizzled ?-no?

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

A sable silvered.

Ham. I'll watch to-night; perchance 'twil. walk again.
Hor. I warrant you it will.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, sir,
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shali hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your love: so, fare you well.
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

ALCESTIS AND PHERES.-Translated by Mrs. Hemans.

[The following scene is from "Alcestis," one of the last tragedie of Alfieri. The plot is founded upon a Greek legend. Alcestis is the wife of Admetus, the son of Pheres. Admetus has died, and an oracle had declared that he might be restored to life if another person would consent to die in his place. Alcestis, in this dialogue, announces her purpose of devoting herself to death, in order that her husband might return to life.]

ALCESTIS. Weep thou no more. O monarch, dry thy

tears,

For know, he shall not die; not now shall Fate
Bereave thee of thy son.

PHERES.

What mean thy words?

Hath then Apollo-is there then a hope?

ALCESTIS. Yes, hope for thee, hope, by the voice pro nounced

From the prophetic cave. Nor would I yield

To other lips the tidings, meet alone

For thee to hear from mine.

PAERES.

But say, oh! say,

He shall, to thee.

Shall, then, my son be spared?

ALCESTIS.

Thus hath Apollo said,—Alcestis thus
Confirms the oracle; be thou secure.

PHERES. O sounds of joy! He lives!
ALCESTIS.

But not for this;

Think not that e'en for this the stranger, joy,
Shall yet revisit these devoted walls.

PHERES. Can there be grief when, from his bed of death,

Admetus rises? What deep mystery lurks

Within thy words? What mean'st thou? Gracious heaven!

Thou, whose deep love is all his own, who hearest
The tidings of his safety, and dost bear
Transport and life in that glad oracle
To his despairing sire; thy cheek is tinged
With death, and on thy pure, ingenuous brow
To the brief lightning of a sudden joy

Shades dark as night succeed, and thou art wrapt
In troubled silence. Speak! oh! speak!

ALCESTIS.

The gods

Themselves have limitations to their power,
Impassable, eternal; and their will

Resists not the tremendous laws of fate:

Nor small the boon they grant thee in the life
Of thy restored Admetus.

PHERES.

In thy looks

There is expression more than in thy words,
Which thrills my shuddering heart. Declare what

terms

Can render fatal to thyself and us

The rescued life of him thy soul adores?

ALCESTIS. O, father! could my silence aught avai To keep that fearful secret from thine ear,. Still should it rest unheard till all fulfilled Were the dread sacrifice. But vain the wish; And since too soon, too well, it must be known, Hear it from ine.

PHERES.

Through all my curdling veins

Runs a cold, death-like horror; and I feel
I am not all a father. In my heart
Strive many deep affections. Thee I love,
O fair and high-souled consort of my son!
More than a daughter; and thine infant race,
The cherished hope and glory of my age;
And, unimpaired by time, within my breast,
High, holy, and unalterable love

For her, the partner of my cares and joys,
Dwells pure and perfect yet. Bethink thee, then,
In what suspense, what agony of fear,

I wait thy words; for well, too well, I see
Thy lips are fraught with fatal auguries
To some one of my race.

ALCESTIS.

Death hath his rights,

Of which not e'en the great Supernal Powers
May hope to rob him. By his ruthless hand,
Already seized, the noble victim lay,

The heir of empire, in his glowing prime

And noon-day struck;--Admetus, the revered,
The blessed, the loved, by all who owned his sway,
By his illustrious parents, by the realms
Surrounding his,—and oh! what need to add,
How much by his Alcestis? Such was he,
Already in the unsparing grasp of death,
Withering, a certain prey. Apollo thence
Hath snatched him, and another in his stead,
Although not an equal,-(who can equal him?)-
Must fall a voluntary sacrifice.
Another of his lincage, or to him

By closest bonds united, must descend
To the dark realm of Orcus* in his place,
Who thus alone is saved.

PHERES.

What do I hear?

Woe to us, woe!-what victim?-who shall be
Accepted in his stead?

ALCESTIS.

The dread exchange

E'en now, O father! hath been made; the prey
Is ready, nor is wholly worthless him

For whom 'tis freely offered. Nor wilt thou,
O mighty goddess of the infernal shades!
Whose image sanctifies this threshold floor,
Disdain the victim,

PHERES.

All prepared the prey!

And to our blood allied! O heaven!—and yet
Thou bad'st me weep no more!

Yes, thus I said,

ALCESTIS.
And thus again I say,-thou shalt not weep
Thy son's, nor I deplore my husband's doom.
Let him be saved, and other sounds of woe,
Less deep, less mournful far, shall here be heard,
Than those his death had caused. With some few tears
But brief, and mingled with a gleam of joy,

E'en while the involuntary tribute lasts,
The victim shall be honored, who resigned

Life for Admetus. Wouldst thou know the prey,-
The vowed, the willing, the devoted one,
Offered and hallowed to the infernal gods?
Father! 'tis I.

Orcus, the god of the lower world.