Laertes, I lament your situation :
But come; we'll have a private conversation,
And I'll acquaint you who 'twas kill'd your father.-
Or, if you like not this plan, and had rather
Submit our diff'rence to an arbiration,
You may depend on ample reparation.

His shabby fun'ral too- -O sad reproach!
Not e'en attended by a morning-coach ;
No mutes, no pall-bearers, and (what's still worse)
Two wretched knock’d-up hacks to draw his hearse.
I'll have revenge.

You shall.—Tip us your

daddle : But on the right horse see you place the saddle.



Another Room in the Palace.

Enter King and Laertes.

And now, my cock of wax, I've prov'd that I
Have never had a finger in the pie.
Thinking to murder me, did Hamlet kill him.

o, let me catch him, and I'll sweetly mill him (8).

That may you speedily.—E'en now I've learn’d,
Hamlet hath unexpectedly return’d.
Now, I've a scheme will suit us to a T;
'Twill keep suspicion too from you and me:
To his long home he quickly shall be sent,
And so, as it shall seem, by accident.

I will be rul'd by you; but plan it so,
That I may tip the rascal his death-blow.

'Tis rumour'd you're a famous pugilist ;-
Now, Hamlet oft hath long'd to try your fist
I'll have you box together for a wager !

To give him a sound drubbing I'll engage, Sir :
Depend upon't, who's who I'll let him know.

Contrive to give him an unlucky blow.-
But, to make sure of him, (should this plan fail,)
I'll put some ars'nic in a mug of ale;
And when he's hot and thirsty with the fight,
I'll give it him to drink-What think you ?



Enter Queen.

Misfortunes ne'er come singly, oft I've found ;
Now here's a pretty rig-Ophelia's drown'd.


(Tune—“Our Polly is a sad slut.")

Ophelia is a sad slut!

In spite of all I'd taught her,
She went to fish for tittlebats,

And fell into the water.
An envious bramble near the ditch

Fast by the ankle caught her,
And sous'd her over head and heels,

Slap-dash into the water.

Oh! I've a speech of fire ; but, like a spout,
My tears do play upon't, and put it out!


I've had enough ado to keep him quiet,
And now will he kick up another riot.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV.

A Church-Yard.

GRAVEDIGGER discovered digging a Grave.


(Tune—" Black Joke.")

0, long life to the sons of the pick-axe and spade,
For they hold up an antient respectable trade;

With my dig, dig, pick-axe and spade.

In the hist'ry of all early states 't will be found,
That each half-naked nobleman dug his own ground;
For antiquiry, all trades to delving must give in,
Since by digging e'en Adam himself earn'd his living.

With my dig, dig, pick-axe and spade.

Whilst the Gravedigger is singing this Verse,

Hamlet and Horatio enter at a distance.

This fellow digs and sings —unfeeling knave !
He's making merry of a trade that's grave.

Use, Sir, is second nature,


On reflection, I think I'd do the same were I a sexton.

Gravedigger (sings).

The carpenter, shipwright, and mason, may boast
Of the strength of their buildings—they're nut-shells at most :

With my dig, dig, &c.

But the sexton builds stronger than all put together,
For the houses that he makes defy wind and weather;
And his tenants lie snug, undisturb’d, and content,
For they're ne'er teased for taxes, nor troubled for rent.

With my dig, dig, &c.

[Gravedigger throws up several skulls.


That skull might once have been a politician's;
And that a lawyer's, or a grave physician's.
Law, politics, and physic, now must grovel,
To bear a basting with a dirty shovel !-
That sexton seems a dev'lish dry old elf :
Horatio, shall we quiz him?


Please yourself.

Hamlet. (TO Gravedigger) Do'st know whose skull amongst the many ?

What! can't you tell ?

Why, how the devil can I?

was this

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