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He'll flirt with any wench in town, then leave her;
For know, that Hamlet is a gay deceiver.
She sports her figure quite enough (take note)
Who wears a flannel under-petticoat (b).

Ophelia.

I take the hint: but do not, good my brother,
Shew me one road, and go yourself another :

Like our good priest, who, whilst our sports retrenching,
Himself goes nightly round the village wenching.

Laertes.

O, fear me not; I hope you do not doubt me.-
But I must run for't, or they'll sail without me.

SCENE III.

The Platform.

[Exeunt.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.

Ilamlet.

Jack Frost is gadding (i)—it is very cold.

Horatio.

Why, any fool, methinks, might that have told. (Aside.)

What is't o'clock?

Hamlet.

Horatio.

Half past eleven at most.—

Marcellus.

My watch says twelve (k).

Horatio.

But see! here comes the ghost!

Enter GHOST.

Hamlet.

Zounds! here's a pretty rig! (7) O Lord, defend us!
Prythee no more such frightful spectres send us!
Be thou a jovial sprite or goblin damn'd;
Be thou or ether-puff'd or sulphur-cramm'd;
Be thy intents indiff'rent, good, or bad,
I'll speak to thee, thou look'st so like my dad.
In a trim grave so snugly wast thou lain,
Say what the devil brought thee out again?
I like a joke myself; but 'tis not right

To come and frighten us to death at night.
Say, why is this? and straight the reason tell us,
For fright'ning me, Horatio, and Marcellus.-

Horatio.

He'd have a tête-à-tête with you-alone.

Hamlet.

Would he?-Here goes then-now, my cock, lead on!

You shall not go.

Marcellus.

Horatio.

Perhaps he means to kill you.

Hamlet.

You'd better hold your jaw (m),—be quiet, will you?

Now blow me if you go.

Horatio.

Hamlet,

My fate cries out

And gives me pluck-so mind what you're about.

Still am I call'd-paws off (7)—the time we're wastingCome, brush; or else I'll give you both a basting.

[Breaking from them. Hop off, I say! (To Ghost) Lead on; I'll quickly

follow. (To Hor. and Mar.) I'll hollo.

Wait here; and if I want ye, lads,

[Exeunt Ghost and Ham.

Hor. and Mar.

SCENE IV.

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Then hold your gab (0), and hear what I've to tell;
I'm press'd for time-we keep good hours in h—11.
Soon must I go and have another roast;

So pray attend to me.

Hamlet.

Alas, poor Ghost!

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That diddled (9) me out of my crown and my queen.—

Tiddy, tiddy, &c.

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