And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-to thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not be false to any man.

The poet Cowper, writing to a gentleman who had consulted him on the publication of a poem, says, "I would advise every man to publish, whose subjects are well chosen, whose sentiments are just, and who can afford to be a loser." Whether we publish the sentiments of others, or our own, Cowper's second requisition is binding upon us. That portion of a father's instructions which is censured below, we ourselves believed to inculcate a necessary caution in speaking, and a habit of self-reliance, which, as to both, are highly honourable to the possessor. We may, it is true, listen to the communications of others, from the basest motives, and our prudence and economy may degenerate into avarice. We are not convinced that this line of conduct is recommended by Polonius in those particular passages which provoke those remarks that occur in the following citation from Richardson's 'Literary Leaves.' Speaking of Polonius, the critic says, "His advice is not that of a philosopher, but of a courtier and man of the world. He echoes the common wisdom of his associates:

"Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg

ment."

* Opinion.

He is indebted to his court education for this mean and heartless maxim. To listen eagerly to the communications of others, and to conceal his own thoughts, is the first lesson that a courtier learns. Let us quote another specimen of his paternal admonitions:

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend!
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."

Polonius might have picked up this marvellous scrap of prudence, in some petty tradesman's shop: not, however, in a pawnbroker's, for the sign of which it would form a very forbidding motto. It is similar in tone to the maxims of Poor Richard.' There are a few precepts in the parting advice of Polonius of a somewhat higher character; but they are only such as float about the world, and are repeated on occasion by all well-intended people. They are not of that high and original cast which Shakspere would have put into the mouth of Hamlet, or any other thoughtful and noble-minded personage."

In dubious passages, our readers should accept the best signification. On maxims which admit an exception, they should also endeavour to form a correct judgment. The wisest and best of mankind will know when to speak, and when to be silent, nor will they, except in extreme cases, (and these may sometimes occur) be indebted to the assistance of others.

The remarks above quoted, may not be without

their value; at the same time, may not the advice of Polonius admit the meaning which we ourselves would retain ?

REAL GRIEF.

HAMLET TO HIS MOTHER,

Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know it seems.
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath;
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED.

THE KING TO HAMLET.

"Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father!
That father lost, lost 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; 'tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unmortified, or 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 cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so.

HAMLET ON THE FACULTIES OF MAN.

I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in

L

form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, nor woman, neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.

HAMLET'S REFLECTIONS ON YORICK'S
SKULL.

Alas! poor Yorick! -I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.

HAMLET ON HIS MOTHER'S MARRIAGE.

Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fixed