Where's the use of sorrow?

For, ah! we're gone to-day and here to-morrow!

Aye, 'tis true, depend on't;

And so, without an oath, I'll make an end on't.

Ri tol, &c.

We must be patient; all may yet be well.
Yet I must weep-to lay him in the dirt is
A dirty trick-Ï'll tell it to Laertes.

I thank you so 'tis best-you counsel right

My coach three thirty-five (d) good night, good

night.

King.

[Exit Ophelia.

Follow her close: Horatio, you be at her;

See you look sharp. (Exit Hor.) Hollo, there! what's

the matter?

Enter MARCellus.

Marcellus.

My lord, my lord, Laertes heads a mob,
And comes to knock about your royal nob:

[Noise without.

The rabble swear your majesty shall swing,
And loudly cry, "Laertes shall be king."

[Exit Marcellus. [Noise without.

Enter LAERtes.

Laertes.

You blackguard! (To the King.)

Queen.

Fie! Laertes.

Laertes.

I had rather

You'd mind your business. (To King) Give me back

my father.

King.

Hold him fast, Gertrude, I'll get out o' th' way;
He's twice as big as I am. (Going.)

I'll prove my innocence beyond all doubt.

Laertes.

None of your blarney, (e)—but I'll soon find out.
I'll twig ye all for't-I'll not stand your humming-

Enter HORATIO.

Here's Miss Ophelia, Sir.

Horatio.

King.

Pray let her come in.

Enter OPHELIA, fantastically dressed with straws and flowers, her clothes splashed with mud and dirt.

Laertes.

My pretty maid-This is too much to bear!

By Gemini she's mad as a March hare!

Ophelia. (Sings.)

Giles Scroggins courted Molly Brown,

Ri tol, &c.

The fairest wench in all the town.

Tiddy, tiddy, &c.

Laertes.

To see her thus-O, 'tis a doleful pity!

Ophelia.

What must be, must-but hush !—I'll end my ditty.

(Sings.)

A captain bold in Halifax,

Who liv'd in country quarters,
Seduc'd a maid who hang'd herself,

One morning, in her garters.

Stop-stop-I've brought some fruit:

Queen,

The finest cabbage that was ever seen;

For you a bunch of carrots; and for you

A turnip and I'll eat a turnip too.

To bring a rope of onions, (f) too, I tried,

But father ate them all before he died.

for you, sweet

Well, there's an end of him!-he's gone!-aye, true▬▬
Come, one song more, and then-then I'll go too.

SONG.-OPHELIA.

And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?

He is knock'd o' the head,
And than mutton more dead,

And never will come again.

His beard was as white as my shift,

As white as my shift was his pole:
He is gone-let's be jolly,

For grieving's a folly,

And never will save his soul.

[Exeunt Ophelia and Queen.