Well, mother, what's the matter with you now?

Your father, Sir, has made a pretty row (k).

Mother, you've put my father in a passion.

Zounds, Sir, don't answer in this idle fashion.

None of your blarney ; it won't do to-night-

Have you forgot me, puppy?


No, not quite :
You are the Queen—wife to your husband's brother ;
And (tho' I blush to own you) you're my mother.

Behave yourself ;-be decent, Sir, I beg.

Hamlet. Sit down,—and dam'me if you stir a peg 'Till I have let you see your very soul.

What! Wouldst thou kill me? Help, ho! Watch!-

Polonius. (Bebind.)

Patrole !

A rat,-a rat,-by Jove, that's just the thing ;-
He's dead as sure as two-pence.
(Hamlet draws, and stabs Polonius bebind the arras.)

Is't the King ?

Queen. 0, Hamlet ! you have done a deed felonious ;You've kill'd our poor lord-chamberlain, Polonius !

Hamlet. They who throw stones should mind their windows,

mother.Who kill'd a king and married with his brother >

If I know what you mean, the devil burn me.

Hamlet. (Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.) Thou'st paid for list’ning to what don't concern thee. (To Queen.) Leave wringing of your hands ; before we

part, I'll take the liberty to wring your heart.

What have I done that you dare make so free,
As thus to blow me up, and bully me?


Oh! such an act-it scarcely can be nam'd-
So bad—I wonder you're not more asham'd.
Jump o'er a broomstick (?), but don't make a farce on
The marriage ceremonies of the parson.

Queen. What act d’you mean ?-You hoax—there's nothing in it.


I'll let you know my meaning in a minute.


(Tune—" Drops of Brandy.")

Come sit you down here, ma'am, a little,

And I'll shew you two counterfeit faces; They're done from the life to a tittle

Come, none of your fine airs and graces.
Look on this first : the likeness you well know,

Like a ploughman so plump and so chubby;
A good-looking, fine, strapping, fellow;
Now, madam, this once was your hubby.

Ri tol, &c.

this :

You'll now please to look upon

I'd have married a monkey as soonAn old, ugly, undersiz'd, quiz

Zounds! the fellow looks like a baboon ! How could you take this and forego

The one I now hold in my hand, mother? You can't say 'twas for love; for you know That you're almost as old as my grandmother.

Ri tol, &c.


. O, say no more—I'll mind what I'm about: Your words have almost turn'd me inside out.


Nay, but to live, (in not the best repute,)
With that inhuman, cruel, murd'rous, brute ;
A very Filch, that more deserves to hang
Than any one of the light-fingered gang ;
That from a shelf the precious crown did thieve,
And put it in his pocket-without leave :
A King of shreds and patches-(Enter Ghost,) Ha! here's

What is't you're come about?


Alas! he's mad!

TRIO.-HAMLET, Ghost, Queen.

(Tune-“0, Lady Fair.")

Hamler—0, spectre grim! What brings thee here now?

Thou com'st thy tardy son to chide, I fear now.
I own thy commission, as yet, is not quite done;

Don't be in a hurry, and all shall be right done.
Ghost — Thee of thy promise I come to remind, Sir :-
(Bass) A nod's like a wink to a horse that is blind, Sir.

Queen - Say, Hamlet, say, on what art thou staring;

So frightened am I, that I vow 'tis past bearing.
On what art thou looking ? To whom art thou

talking ?

I can see nothing ! O, where art thou walking ? Ghost But look at thy mother; she seems in a stew,

Tell her she'd better not be frighten'd-pray do, Sir !

Sir ;

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Hamlet~ Whom 'tis I look at, fain you'd be knowing :

Straight thro' the trap-door now he is going.
Queen Whom 'tis you look at, fain I'd be knowing :-

Who thro' the trap-door now is going?
Ghost - Whom 'tis you look at, fain she'd be knowing :

Straight thro' the trap-door now I'm going.


[Ghost sinks.

Hamlet, these pranks of your's do much amaze me;
You surely must be either drunk or crazy.

Mother, I fear your crimes are past all cure;
But I am no more mad nor drunk than you are.
So don't humbug yourself; I'm not in liquor.-
Confess your sins this instant to the vicar;
Repent what's past, and don't do so again-

O, Hamlet, you have cut my heart in twain.

Then throw away the rotten part, good mother,
And strive to make a better use of i'other.
Good night; and, when you next lay down your head,
Be sure you kick my uncle out of bed :

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