Enter Hamlet (advances thoughtfully to front,
and produces a bottle, labelled “Old Tom.”)
To drink, or not to drink? That is the question.
Whether ’tis better to let cares infest one,
And put up with misfortunes, such as are
A wicious mother and a poison’d Pa,—
Or, with this pocket pistol to my brain,
Plunge in Blue Ruin the Blue Devil’s train!
To drink—to feel with each successive “go”
Some pang depart, till Hope alone doth glow,
As in Pandora’s reticule—the plan