wounds which we cannot see. Thirdly, unmixed pity can only be excited by suffering, which is undeserved and unavoidable. When a man brings upon himself only so much suffering as he deserves to endure; or when, through wilfulness or obstinacy, he endures suffering which he can avoid, justice holds up the stern finger and forbids pity to interfere. But avoidability of suffering and desert of suffering are so relative and varied with circumstance, that some amount of obstinacy or demerit is readily overlooked by the tender eyes of compassion. "Treat us all according to our merits," says Hamlet, "and who shall escape whipping?" Feel for us all according to our merits, and who shall deserve pity?
Yet justice modifies pity, nay, sometimes forbids it—even where suffering is greatest. The agonies of hell, as they are painted on the broad canvas of Milton, do not excite pity, because they are felt to be justly endured.
Ophelia is, from the first moment of her appearance, suffering the anguish of doubt and wounded love. Unlike Desdemona and Imogen, there is no bright period of the character. There is gentle but real sorrow in her first words, "No more but so?" Must she consider herself merely the toy of her princely lover? "The perfume and suppliance of the minute?" Has he been trifling with her love? and his own, is it nothing but youthful lust, dishonourable to himself and dangerous to her? "No more but so?" She does not believe it; her brother sees that she does not believe it, and he gives more credit to Hamlet's earnestness. "Perhaps he loves you now;" but he may not marry where he chooses; he may not carve for himself; therefore it behoves poor Ophelia to exercise her wisdom where wisdom is rarely exercised, and to believe Hamlet's love only so far as the probability of an honourable marriage may justify her faith. Match-making probabilities, which the poor girl was far enough from being able to estimate Laertes does not advise his sister according to the truth of the
