Now had these children staid at home, And slid upon dry ground; They broken necks had had, perchance, But never had been drown’d. However the whole burlesque is so good that it will be republished complete in this collection; for the present it will be sufficient to quote the parody of the Soliloquy, which is in rhyme:―― _Song_, HAMLET.――Tune, “_Here we go up, up, up_.” When a man becomes tired of his life, The question is, “to be, or not to be?” For before he dare finish the strife, His reflections most serious ought to be. When his troubles too numerous grow, And he knows of no method to mend them, Had he best bear them tamely, or no?―― Or by stoutly opposing them end them? Ri-tol-de-rol, etc. To die is to sleep――nothing more―― And by sleeping to say we end sorrow, And pain, and ten thousand things more―― O, I wish it were _my_ turn to-morrow! But, perchance, in that sleep we may dream, For we dream in our beds very often―― Now, however capricious ’t may seem, I’ve no notion of dreams in a coffin. Ri-tol-de-rol, etc. ’Tis the doubt of our ending all snugly, That makes us with life thus dispute, For who’d bear with a wife old and ugly, Or the length of a chancery suit? Or who would bear fardels, and take Kicks, cuffs, frowns, and many an odd thing, When he might his own quietus make, And end all his cares with a bodkin? Ri-tol-de-rol, etc. Truly, death is a fine thing to talk of, But I’ll leave to men of more learning; For my own part, I’ve no wish to walk off, For I find there’s no chance of returning.―― After all ’tis the pleasantest way, To bear up as we can ’gainst our sorrow, And if things go not easy to-day, Let us hope they’ll go better to-morrow.―― Ri-tol-de-rol, etc. ――――:o:―――― O. P. Q. PHILANDER SMIFF, of _The Figaro_, (London,) once suggested that the play of _Hamlet_ might be made use of as an advertising medium, with a few minor alterations, as, to take the Soliloquy for example:―― “To sleep, or not to sleep――that is the question, Whether ’tis well to suffer indigestion; Or bear the burden of a dozen ills, Whilst Mr. Cockle offers me his pills. To have a headache, and a tongue that shocks, Whilst they are sold at thirteen-pence a box.” or, on another evening we might have:―― “To be in debt or not, that is the question, Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to go to Mr. Howse, in Staples Inn, And thus take arms against a sea of trouble.” ――――:o:―――― ON BLOWING YOUR BRAINS OUT.