Of all good fellows sure he was the best, Sir !
This skull was Yorick's once, the late king's jester.

Alas, poor Yorick !-Sir, I knew him well-O!
He was indeed a jolly roaring fellow.
Horatio, he would get dead drunk,—and after
Could keep the table in a roar of laughter;
The first and last was he in ev'ry row:
O'th' wrong side of his mouth he's laughing now.
Now, when Miss Prim is seated at her glass,
With paints and washes to bedaub her face,
Tell her, (to make her giggle at her toilette,)
That, paint her face inch thick, yet death will spoil it.

[blocks in formation]

Next, without much delay,

We're converted to clay;
But our next transformation's a lott'ry:

Some are chang'd into cans,

Some to pint-pots or pans-
Some to tea-pots from Wedgewood's fam'd pott'ry!

By this rule may we trace

Julius Cæsar's bold face,
'Till we find it i'th' form of a jug;

And renown'd Alexander,

The world's great commander,
A two-penny earthenware mug!!

Bell tolls.

Hamlet. But mum! here come King, Queen, and all the

court : Let's stand aside awhile and see the sport.

[Bell tolls.

Enter Friar, King, Queen, Laertes, Marcellus,

Bernardo, Gentlemen, and LADIES, following the corpse of OPHELIA.

Laertes. Must there no more be done?


Steady, lad, steady; Don't talk of more-we've done too much already.

Laertes, In with her then: (The coffin is put into the grave) and

if, as gossips tell, Old maids are destin'd to lead apes in hell, May'st thou be one in my poor sister's train.

Hamlet. What, my old sweetheart! We're bewitch'd, 'tis plain (b).

Queen. (Scattering flowers) Instead of this, as I'm a living

sinner, I thought t'have had soon a good wedding-dinner.

[The Gravedigger about to throw

the earth into the grave.


(Tune—“Nancy Dawson.")

Sexton, throw aside your spade,
Don't be in so much haste, my blade;
Once more I'll buss the bonny maid,
Before the grave you fill, Sir.

(Leaps into the grave.

Now cover up the quick and dead,
And pile your dust upon my head,
'Till of this flat a mount you've made

As high as Greenwich-hill, Sir,

Hamlet (advancing).
Who's ranting in so fine a strain ?

Pray, who are you?


Hamlet, the Dane.

I'm glad I've caught you here again-
Now dam'me but I'll choak thee.

[Springs out of the grave, and catches

Hamlet by the throar.

Let go my throat-don't squeeze so tight;
For, tho' I'm not the first to fight,
I'll thump you to your heart's delight,-

So you'd better not provoke me.

I'll fight for her (so hold your mag)
Until my eye-lids cease to wag ;
But if you only mean to brag,

Come tell me what you'll do, Sir ?
Of paltry Greenwich-hill you speak,
But on me I'll let them pile a heap
That shall rival the Devil's A-e a.peak-
I'll rant as well as you, Sir.

[Exeunt Hamlet and Horatio.

Queen. Alas, he's crack'd! Awhile he'll growl like Towzer (i): Anon, he's patient as a hungry mouser (k).

Good Gertrude, see your crazy son you make fast.

[Exit Queen. And now, Laertes, we'll go home to breakfast.

[Exeunt King, Laertes, &c. &c.

A Hall in the Palace.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio.

Horatio, I am sorry for this squabble ;
I fear 'twill get me in a precious hobble.


Enter Osrick.

Osrick. (T. Hamlet) His Majesty hath made a match for you,

To spar with young Laertes-a prime bruiser ;
And betted him ten shillings to a crown
That you, my lord, will give the first knock down.
Laertes is quite ready to set to;
They're all assembled, and but wait for you.

Lead on : I'll fight him, Sir: I ne'er felt bolder.

I'll be your second.

I, your bottle-holder.


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