Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing: at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room; and going to the window, and looking out at the starry sky, she said to him, “You have more to tell us about Hamlet: I will not hurry you,--my brother must hear it as well as I; but let me beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia.” “Of her there cannot much be said,” he answered; “for a few master-strokes complete her character. The whole being of Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses so unresistingly, that both father and brother are afraid: both give her warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements of her heart: it, on the contrary, betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should shake the tree, its fruit would fall.” “And then,” said Aurelia, “when she beholds herself forsaken, cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed lover, and the highest changes to the lowest, and, instead of the sweet cup of love, he offers her the bitter’ cup of woe--” “Her heart breaks,” cried Wilhelm; “the whole structure of her being is loosened from its joinings: her father’s death strikes fiercely against it, and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into fragments.” Serlo, this moment entering, inquired about his sister, and, looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, “So you are again at _Hamlet_? Very good! Many doubts have arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the canonical aspect of the play as you would have it viewed. The English themselves have admitted that its chief interest concludes with the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and scarcely uniting with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to stand stock-still.” “It is very possible,” said Wilhelm, “that some individuals of a nation, which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind to form false judgments; but this cannot hinder us from looking with our own eyes, and doing justice where we see it due. I am very far from censuring the plan of _Hamlet_: on the other hand, I believe there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not invented, it is real.” “How do you demonstrate that?” inquired Serlo. “I will not demonstrate anything,” said Wilhelm; “I will merely show you what my own conceptions of it are.”