whom they'll have to thank for knowing nothing; whom, indeed, but their father'? People who can't feel for their own children ought never to be fathers. 4. But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh yes; I know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow, you knew that; and you did it on purpose. [I like to have you go there.] Don't tell me! you hate to have me go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. No, sir; if it comes down in buckets-full, I'll go all the more. [You can take a cab, then.] No; I won't have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from? You've got nice high notions at that club of yours! 5. A cab, indeed! Cost me sixteen pence, at least—sixteen pence! two-and-eight pence: for there's back again. Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em; for I'm sure you can't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property, and beggaring your children-buying umbrellas! 6. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle'? I say, do you hear it'? But I don't care-I'll go to mother's to-morrow-I will; and, what's more, I'll walk every step of the wayand you know that will give me my death. [You'll be a foolish woman, then.] Don't call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish man. 7. You know I can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a cold-it always does. But what do you care for that'? Nothing at all. I may be laid up, for what you care, as I dare say I shall—and a pretty doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend your umbrella again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death; yes: and that's what you lent the umbrella for. Of course. 8. Nice clothes I shall get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. [You needn't wear them, then.] Needn't wear 'em, then'! Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, sir; I'm not going out a dowdy, to please you, or any body else. Gracious knows'! it isn't often that I step over the threshold: indeed, I might as well be a slave at once; better, I should say; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. 9. Oh, that rain-if it isn't enough to break in the windows! Ugh! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I am to go to mother's, I'm sure I can't tell. But if I die, I'll do it. [You can borrow an umbrella.] No, sir, I'll not borrow an umbrella-no, and you sha'n't buy one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella, I'll throw it into the street. Ha! and it was only last week I had a new nozzle put on that umbrella. I'm sure, if I'd known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you! 10. Oh, it's all very well for you; you can go to sleep. You've no thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own dear children; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas! Men, indeed!-call themselves lords of the creation! pretty lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella ! 11. I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me. But that's what you want: then you may go to your club, and do as you like; and then, nicely my poor, dear children will be used. But then, sir, then you'll be happy. [No, I shall not.] Oh! don't tell me! I know you will: else you'd never have lent the umbrella! You have to go on Thursday about that summons; and, of course, you can't go. No, indeed: you don't go without the umbrella. You may lose the debt for what I care; it won't be so bad as spoiling your clothes-better lose it: people deserve to lose debts who lend umbrellas! I 12. And I should like to know how I am to go to mother's without the umbrella. [You said you would go.] Oh! don't tell me that I said would go; that's nothing to do with it-nothing at all. She'll think I'm neglecting her; and the little money we're to have, we sha'n't have at all— because we've no umbrella. The children too! (dear things!) they'll be sopping wet; for they sha'n't stay at home; they sha'n't lose their learning; it's all their father will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. [You said they shouldn't go.] Don't tell me I said they shouldn't: you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the temper of an an gel. They shall go to school: mark that; and if they get their deaths of cold, it's not my fault: I didn't lend the umbrella. "Here,” said Caudle, in his manuscript, "I fell asleep, and dreamt that the sky was turned into green calico, with whalebone ribs;-that, in fact, the whole world revolved under a tremendous umbrella." a St. Swrth'in. The Bishop of Winchester, tutor to King Alfred, was canonized as Saint Swithin. He is said to have wrought many miracles, the most celebrated being a rain of forty days' continuance. It is a popular superstition in England, that if it rain on St. Swithin's day (July 15th) it will rain for forty days thereafter. LESSON XCIV. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH. SHAKSPEARE'S Hamlet, Act III., Scene 1. [This soliloquy of Hamlet is spoken with that solemnity of manner, and becoming slowness of utterance, which are expressive of deep thought and meditation.] 1. To be or not' to be !-that is the question:- 2. And, by opposing', end' them ?-To die-to sleep- The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks To die',-to sleep', To sleep'!-perchance to dream!-ay, there's the rub'! For, in that sleep of death, what dreams' may come', Must give us pause. There's the respect" That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time', 3. The insolence of office', and the spurns Who would fardelse bear, To groan and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after' death'- And makes us rather bear those ills we have', 4. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all': Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; [A Parody is a kind of poetical pleasantry, in which grave or scrious writings are closely imitated in some trivial subject, and thereby made ludicrous. It consists in the turning of something serious into burlesque; but the imitation is more close and exact than in ordinary burlesque composition. In the present lesson, Hamlet's serious and admirable soliloquy on death is very successfully parodied by the bachelor, who applies almost the precise language of Hamlet to the subject of matrimony. The proper reading of this piece requires a mock seriousness and gravity, imitative of the original.] 1. To wed-or not' to wed!-that is the question:- The stings and arrows of outrageous love, And, by opposing', quench' it ?—To wed'—to marry'— 2. 3. No more!—and, by a marriage, say we end To wed',-to marry', To marry'!-perchance a scold!-ay, there's the rub!- In silence?—who would bear the cruel gibes When he himself might end such heartfelt griefs Oh! who would live, But that the dread of something after' wedlock- 4. Thus caution does make bachelors of us all': a GIBE (jibe), scoff; expression of sarcastic scorn. |
