It is to be observed, further, that a copy of Speight's Chaucer once owned by Gabriel Harvey, and having his name written in it, together with the date of 1598, has, among others, the following manuscript note: "The younger sort take much delight in Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis; but his Lucrece, and his tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, have it in them to please the wiser sort." This, however, does not seem to infer any thing with certainty as to time; since the name and date may have been written when Harvey purchased the book, and the note at ɛome later period.

The only other contemporary notice to be quoted of the play, is an entry at the Stationers' by James Roberts, on the 26th of July, 1602: "A Book,-The Revenge of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, as it was lately acted by the Lord Chamberlain his Servants." As the quarto of 1604 was printed by James Roberts, we may reasonably conclude that this entry refers to the "enlarged " form of the play. Why the publication was not made till two years later, is beyond our reach perhaps it was because 20 copy could be obtained for the press, until the maimed and stolen issue of 1603 had rendered it necessary to put forth an edition in self-defence, "according to the true and perfect copy." We have repeatedly seen that in the spring of 1603 the Lord Chamberlain's Servants" became " His Majesty's Servants; or, as they are called in the title-page of 1603, "His Highness' Servants."

A piece of internal evidence fixes the date of the enlarged Hamlet soon after the 22d of June, 1600. It is the reason assigned by Rosencrantz, in Act ii, sc. 2, why the players have left the city and gone to travelling: "I think their inhibition comes by means of the late innovation." What this inhibition was, bas been set forth in our Introduction to Twelfth Night; so that it need not be repeated here. The passage just quoted is not in the copy of 1603: a different reason is there assigned why the players travel: "Novelty carries it away; for the principal public audience that came to them are turned to private plays, and the humour of children."

Plays were acted in private by the choir-boys of the Chapel Royal and of St. Paul's before 1590, several of Lyly's pieces being used in that way. It appears that in 1591 these juvenile performances had been suppressed; as in the printer's address prefixed to Lyly's Endymion, which was published that year, we are told that, since the plays in Paul's were dissolved, there are certain comedies come to my hand." Nash, in his Have with You to Saffron Waldon," published in 1596, expresses a wish to see the plays at Paul's up again;" which infers that at that time the interdict was still in force. In 1600, however, we find that the interdict had been taken off, a play attributed to Lyly being that year "acted by the children of Paul's." Fron this time forward

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these juvenile performances appear to have been kept up, both in private and in public, until 1612, when, on account of the abuses attending them, they were again suppressed.

It would seem, then, that the reason assigned in the text of 1603 refers to a period when the acting of children was only in private, and was regarded as a novelty; whereas at the time of the later text the qualities of novelty and privacy had been removed. And it appears not improbable, that the taking-off of the interdict before 1600, and the consequent revival of plays by children, was "the late innovation" by means of which the "inhibition" bad been brought about. Howbeit, so far as regards the date of the older text, the argument is by no means conclusive, and we are not for laying any very marked stress upon it; but it seems, at all events, worth considering. Its bearing as to the time of the later text is obvious enough, and will hardly be questioned.

Knight justly remarks, that the mention of Termagant and Herod, which occurs in the quarto of 1603, refers to a time when those personages trod the stage in pageants and mysteries; and that the directions to the players, as given in the older text, point to the customs and conduct of the stage, as it was before Shakespeare had, by his example and influence, raised and reformed it. The following passage from the first copy will show what we mean: "And then you have some again, that keeps one suit of jests, as a man is known by one suit of apparel; and gentlemen quote his jests down in their tables before they come to the play, as thus: Cannot you stay till I eat my porridge?' and, You owe me a quarter's wages;' and, My coat wants a cullison ;' and, Your beer is sour;' and, blabbering with his lips, and thus keeping in his cinque-a-pace of jests, when, God knows, the warm clown cannot make a jest unless by chance, as the blind man catcheth a hare." From the absence of all this in the enlarged copy, we should naturally conclude that the evil referred to had at that time been done away, or at least much diminished. And in deed a comparison of the two texts in this part of the play will satisfy any one, we think, that, during the interval between them, the stage had been greatly elevated and improved: divers bad customs, no doubt, had been "reformed indifferently;" so that he point still remaining was, to "reform them altogether."

As to the general character of the additions in the enlarged Hamlet, it is to be noted that these are mostly in the contempla. tive and imaginative parts; very little being added in the way of action and incident. And in respect of the former there is indeed no comparison between the two copies: the difference is literally immense, and of such a kind as evinces a most astonishing growth of intellectual power and resource. In the earlier text, we have little more than a naked, though, in the main, well-ordered and firm knit skeleton, which, in the later, is everywhere replenished and glorified with large, rich volumes of thought and poetry;

where all that is incidental or circumstantial is made subordinate to the living energies of mind and soul. The difference is like that of a lusty grove of hickory or maple brethren in December with the winds whistling through them, and in June with the birds singing in them.

So that the enlarged Hamlet probably marks the germination of that " thoughtful philosophy." as Hallam calls it, which never afterwards deserted the Poet; though time did indeed abate its excess, and reduce it under his control; whereas it here overflows all bounds, and sweeps onward unchecked, so as to form the very character of the piece. Moreover, this play, in common with several others, though in a greater degree, bears symptoms of a much saddened and aggrieved, not to say embittered temper of mind it is fraught, more than any other, with a spirit of profound and melancholy cogitation; as if written under the influence of some stroke that had shaken the Poet's disposition with thoughts beyond the reaches of his soul; or as if he were casting about in the darker and sterner regions of meditation in quest of an antidote for some deep distress that had touched him. For there can be little doubt, that the birth and first stages of the philosophie mind" were in his case, for some cause unknown to us, bung about with clouds and gloom, which, however, were afterwards blown off, and replaced by an atmosphere of unblemished clearness and serenity. Hallam has remarked upon this introversive and darkly-brooding season of the Poet's mind, in a superb strain of criticism, which has been quoted in our Introduction to Measure for Measure.

From all which may be gathered how appropriately this play has been described as a tragedy of thought. Such is indeed its character. And in this character it stands alone, and that, not only of Shakespeare's dramas, but of all the dramas in being. As for action, the play has little that can be properly so called. The scenes are indeed richly diversified with incident; but the incidents, for the most part, engage our attention only as serving to start and shape the hero's far-reaching trains of reflection; themselves being lost sight of in the wealth of thought and sentiment which they call forth. In no other of Shakespeare's plays does the interest turn so entirely on the hero; and that, not because he overrides the other persons and crushes their individuality under. as Richard III. does; but because his life is all centered in the mind, and the effluence of his mind and character is around all the others and within them; so that they are little interesting to 18. but for his sake, for the effects they have upon him, and the thoughts he has of them. Observe, too, that of all dramatic personages, "out of sight, out of mind," can least be said of him: on the contrary, he is never more in mind, than when out of sight; aud whenever others come in sight, the effect still is, to remind us of him, and deepen our interest in him.

The character of Hamlet has caused more of perplexity and discussion than any other in the whole range of art. He has a wonderful interest for all, yet none can explain him; and perhaps he is therefore the more interesting because inexplicable. Wo have found by experience, that one seems to understand him better after a little study than after a great deal, and that the less one sees into him, the more apt one is to think he sees through him; in which respect he is indeed like nature herself. We shall not presume to make clear what so many better eyes have found and left dark. The most we can hope to do is, to start a few thoughts, not towards explaining him, but towards showing why he cannot be explained; nor to reduce the variety of opinions touching him, but rather to suggest whence that variety proceeds, and why.

One man considers Hamlet great, but wicked; another, good, but weak; a third, that he lacks courage, and dare not act; a fourth, that he has too much intellect for his will, and so thinks away the time of action: some conclude him honestly mad; others, that his madness is wholly feigned. Yet, notwithstanding this diversity of conclusions, all agree in thinking and speaking of him as an actual person. It is easy to invest with plausibility almost any theory regarding him, but very hard to make any theory comprehend the whole subject; and, while all are impressed with the truth of the character, no one is satisfied with another's view of it. The question is, why such unanimity as to his being a man, and at the same time such diversity as to what sort of a man he is?

Now, in reasoning about facts, we are apt to forget what complex and many-sided things they are. We often speak of them as very simple and intelligible; and in some respects they are so; but, in others, they are inscrutably mysterious. For they present manifold elements and qualities in unity and consistency, and so carry a manifoldness of meaning which cannot be gathered up into logical expression. Even if we seize and draw out severally all the properties of a fact, still we are as far as ever from pro. ducing the effect of their combination. Thus there is somewhat in facts that still eludes the cunningest analysis; like the vital principle, which no subtlety of dissection can grasp or overtake. It is this mysteriousness of facts that begets our respect for them: could we master them, we should naturally lose our regard for them. For, to see round and through a thing, implies a sort of conquest over it; and when we seem to have conquered a thing, we are apt to put off that humility towards it, which is both the better part of wisdom, and also our key to the remainder.

This complexity of facts supposes the material of innumerable theories: for, in such a multitude of properties belonging to one and the same thing, every man's mind may take hold of some special consideration above the rest; and when we look at facts through a given theory they naturally seem to prove but that one,

though they would really afford equal proof of fifty others. Hence there come to be divers opinions respecting the same thing; ano men arrive at opposite conclusions, forgetting, that of a given fact many things may be true in their place and degree, yet none of them true in such sort as to impair the truth of others.

Now, Hamlet is all varieties of character in one; he is con tinually turning up a new side, appearing under a new phase, undergoing some new development; so that he touches us at ali points, and, as it were, surrounds us. This complexity and ver satility of character are often mistaken for inconsistency: hence the contradictory opinions respecting him, different minds taking very different impressions of him, and even the same mind, at different times. In short, like other facts, he is many-sided, so that many men of many minds may see themselves in different sides of him; but, when they compare notes, and find him agreeing with them all, they are perplexed, and are apt to think him inconsistent in so great a diversity of elements, they lose the perception of identity, and cannot see how he can be so many, and still be but one. Doubtless he seems the more real for this very cause; our inability to see through him, or to discern the source and manner of his impression upon us, brings him closer to nature, makes him appear the more like a fact, and so strengthens his hold on our thoughts. For, where there is life, there must needs be more or less of change, the very law of life being identity in mutability; and in Hamlet the variety and rapidity of changes are so managed as only to infer the more intense, active, and prolific vitality; though, in so great a multitude of changes, it is extremely difficult to seize the constant principle.

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Coleridge's view of Hamlet is much celebrated, and the currency it has attained shows there must be something of truth in it. "In the healthy processes of the mind," says he, "a balance is constantly maintained between the impressions from outward objects and the inward operations of the intellect for, if there be an overbalance in the contemplative faculty, man thereby becomes the creature of mere meditation, and loses his natural power of action. Now, one f Shakespeare's modes of creating characters is, to conceive any one intellectual or moral faculty in morbid excess, and then to place himse', Shakespeare, thus mutilated or diseased, under given circumstances. In Hamlet he seems to have wished to exemplify the moral necessity of a due balance between our attention to the objects of our senses, and our meditation on the workings of our minds, - an equibrium between the real and the imaginary worlds. In Hamlet this balance is disturbed his thoughts and the images of his fancy are more vivid than his actual perceptions; and his very perceptions, nstantly passing through the medium of his contemplations, acquire, as they pass, a form and colour not naturally their own. Hence we see a great, an almost enormous, intellectual activity, and a