HAMLET’S SOLILOQUY.

To drink, or not to drink? That is the question.

Whether ’tis nobler inwardly to suffer

The pangs and twitchings of uneasy stomach,

Or to take brandy-toddy ’gainst the colic,

And by imbibing end it? To drink,—to sleep,—

To snore;—and, by a snooze, to say we end

The head-ache, and the morning’s parching thirst

That drinking’s heir to;—’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To drink,—to pay,—

To pay the waiter’s bill?—Ay—there’s the rub;

For in that snipe-like bill, a stop may come,

When we would shuffle off our mortal score,

Must give us pause. There’s the respect

That makes sobriety of so long date;

For who could bear to hear the glasses ring

In concert clear—the chairman’s ready toast—

The pops of out-drawn corks—the “hip hurrah!”

The eloquence of claret—and the songs,

Which often through the noisy revel break,

When a man—might his quietus make

With a full bottle? Who would sober be,

Or sip weak coffee through the live-long night;

But that the dread of being laid upon

That stretcher by policemen borne, on which

The reveller reclines,—puzzles me much,

And makes me rather tipple ginger beer,

Than fly to brandy, or to—

—HODGE’S SIN?

Thus poverty doth make us Temp’rance men.