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King.

Cheer up, my hearty: tho' you've lost your dad,
Consider that your case is not so bad:

Your father lost a father; and 'tis certain,

Death o'er your great grandfather drew the curtain. You've mourn'd enough: 'tis time your grief to smother;

Don't cry; you shall be king some time or other.

Queen.

Go not to Wittenburg, my love, I pray you.

Hamlet.

Mama, I shall in all my best obey you.

King.

Well said, my lad! Cheer up! no more foul weather:— We'll meet anon, and all get drunk together.

[Flourish of trumpets and drums—

Exeunt all but Hamlet.

SONG.-HAMLET.

(Tune—Derry down.)

1

A ducat I'd give if a sure way I knew,

How to thaw and resolve my stout flesh into dew!
How happy were I if no sin were self-slaughter!
For I'd then throw myself and my cares in the water.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.

How weary, how profitless,-stale, and how flat,
Seem to me all life's uses, its joys,

and all that:

This world is a garden unweeded; and clearly

Not worth living for-things rank and gross hold it merely.

Derry down, &c.

Two months have scarce pass'd since dad's death, and my

mother,

Like a brute as she is, has just married his brother.

To wed such a bore! but 'tis all too late now:

We can't make a silk purse of the ear of a sow.

Derry down, &c.

So fondly he lov'd her, I've oft heard him tell her, "If it rains, my dear Gertrude, pray take my umbrella." When too roughly the winds have beset her, he' hath said, "My dear, take my Belcher (b) to tie round your head."

Derry down, &c.

Why, zounds! she'd hang on him, as much as to say
"The longer I love you, the longer I may.'
Yet before one could' whistle, as I'm a true man,
He's forgotten !-Oh frailty, thy name sure is woman!

Derry down, &c.

To marry my uncle! My father's own brother!
I'm as much like a lion as one's like the other.
It will not, by jingo, it can't come to good-
But break my poor heart:-I'd say more if I could.

Derry down, &c.

Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.

Hamlet.

My lads I'm glad to see you. I implore

You'll tell me what brought you to Elsinore.

Horatio.

To see dad's funeral I popp'd my head in.

[To Horatio.

Hamlet.

No quizzing (c)-'twas to see my mother's wedding.

Horatio.

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Indeed, my lord, one follow'd hard on t'other.-
I never should have thought it of

Hamlet.

your mother.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! Denmark's cooks were able, With funeral meats to cheer (d) the marriage table.Methinks I have my father in my sight.

Horatio.

My lord, I'll swear I saw him yesternight.

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(Tune-" Heigho! says Rowley.")

Two nights to watch, these gentlemen went, "Heigho!" says Horatio,

When just at the time when the night was spent,

A spectre to frighten them thither was sent,

With his tomb-stone, jaw-bone, skull, shroud and skeleton, "Too strange to be true," says Horatio.

The ghost like your father look'd, arm'd cap-à-pé. "Heigho!" says Horatio,

They came in a twitter to tell this to me,

Saying, "if you don't credit us pray come and see."
With his tomb-stone, &c.

"A cock and a bull," says Horatio.

I promis'd with them to keep watch the next night: "Heigho!" says Horatio,

When lo! as they 'd told me, the ghost came in sightSays I," "Tis too plain that there's something not right. With his tomb-stone, &c.

"But we'll soon find it out," says Horatio.

I intended to say a few words to the Ghost; "Heigho!" says Horatio,

(I should'nt have kept him five minutes at most) But I found the poor fellow as dumb as a post.

With his tomb-stone, &c.

"He's no blabber, I find," says Horatio.

He turn'd on his heel and went off in a pet, "Heigho!" says Horatio,

But he frown'd on us all ere away we could get,

Just as much as to say, "I've not done with you yet.”

With his tomb-stone, &c.

"We had better make off," says Horatio.

He soon came in again, so I told him my mind:
"Heigho!" says Horatio,

Says I, "I'm quite sure you've left something behind,
Some treasure perhaps your exec'tors can't find.

With his tomb-stone, &c.

"You'd best shew where 'tis hid," says Horatio.

He seem'd not to like it, and look'd rather black, "Heigho!" says Horatio,

As much as to say, "You had best hold your clack,"

But he heard the cock crow and was off in a crack.

With his tomb-stone, &c.

"You're a rum kind of ghost," says Horatio.

Hamlet.

Perchance 'twill walk again;—I'll watch to night,
And beg a conversation with the sprite.

If in my father's form it come to scare me,
I'll speak to it, should e'en Old Harry dare me.
(To Hor. and Mar.) Don't let the cat out of the bag,
I pry thee.

Horatio.

Never fear me.

Marcellus.

Nor me.

Hamlet.

Then I'll be with ye

Soon after supper.

Horatio.

Honour ?

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