Soon after supper. Horatio. Honour? Hamlet. Poz.-Adieu! Exeunt Hor. Mar. and Ber. No doubt some dirty work, if this be true. SCENE II. An Apartment in POLONIUS's House. Enter OPHELIA and LAERTES. Laertes. I've pack'd off bag and baggage. To let me have a letter ev'ry mail Never fail If Dad will get it frank'd (g) so much the better. Ophelia. Do'st think I'd grudge the postage of a letter? Laertes. Be not too easily by Hamlet caught, He'll flirt with any wench in town, then leave her; Ophelia. I take the hint: but do not, good my brother, Laertes. O, fear me not; I hope you do not doubt me. SCENE III. The Platform. Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS. Hamlet. 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! 1 Enter GHOST. Hamlet. Zounds! here's a pretty rig! (7) O Lord, defend us! 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 (n)-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.) Wait here; and if I want ye, lads, I'll hollo. [Exeunt Ghost and Ham. Hor. and Mar. Then hold your gab (0), and hear what I've to tell; I'm press'd for time-we keep good hours in h―ll. Soon must I go and have another roast; So pray attend to me. Hamlet. Alas, poor Ghost! SONG.-GHOST. (Tune-" Giles Scroggins' Ghost.") Behold in me your father's sprite, Doom'd for a term to walk the night, You'll scarce believe me when I say, But that I am forbid to blow, (p) The dreadful secrets which I know, I could such a dismal tale unfold, As would make your precious blood run cold! Your uncle is the man I mean, Ri tol tiddy, &c. That diddled (q) me out of my crown and my queen.— Tiddy, tiddy, &c. |