'Twill make a charming ballet-pantomime-
We'll get it up in style,—if we have time.
The king shall come; he'll not suspect the trick;
I'll watch him close-I'll touch him to the quick:
The charge against him is, as yet, deficient,
The honour of a ghost is not sufficient;
But if the play affect him, I shall tell, O!
That he's a knave-the ghost an honest fellow.

[Exit Hamlet.

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A Chamber in the Palace. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ,,


And can you, by no drift of conversation,
Smell out the cause of his sad situation?

He does confess himself non compos mentis, (a).
But won't tell what the cause or the intent is.

· Guilden. He'll not be sounded; he knows well enough The game we're after : Zooks, he's up to snuff. (6)

· Did you not try to get him out to play?

It chanc'd we met the actors on the way:

He jump'd for joy to hear it: they're at court;
And he this night intends to have rare sport.

'Tis true; and Hamlet says, that if your graces
Will come to see the play, he'll book you places.

With all my heart: right glad am I to find
That he to some amusement is inclin'd.
Pray, gentlemen, give him a further zest
For sports like these.

My Lord, we'll do our best.

[Exeunt Guild. and Rosen.


Sweet Gertrude, march your carcase: we have sent
For Hamlet, that (as 'twere by accident)
He here may meet Ophelia. — Thro' the key-hole
Polonius and myself will hear and see th' whole;
And from his conduct we shall soon discover
If Hamlet's be the madness of a lover.

Queen. Ophelia, were he mad of love for you, I think we'd cure him soon.

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Polonius. (To Ophelia) Here, take this book; he'll think you're

at your pray’rs. (To the King) Come, let's be off; I hear him on the stairs.

[Exeunt King and Polonius.



(Tune" Here we go up, up, up.")

When a man becomes tir'd of his life,

The question is, “ to be, or not to be?"
For before he dare finish the strife,

His reflections most serious ought to be.
When his troubles too numerous grow,

And he knows of no method to mend them,
Had he best bear them tamely, or no?
Or by stoutly opposing them end them?

Ri tol de rol, 8-6.

To die is to sleep-nothing more

And by sleeping to say we end sorrow,
And pain, and ten thousand things more

0, I wish it were my turn to-morrow!
But, perchance, in that sleep we may dream,

For we dream in our beds very often-
Now, however capricious 't may seem,
I've no notions of dreams in a coffin.

Ri tol de rol, diam

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'Tis the doubt of our ending all snugly

That makes us with life thus dispute;
Or who'd bear with a wife old and ugly,

Or the length of a chancery suit?
Or who would bear fardels, and take

Kicks, cuffs, frowns, and many an odd thing,
When he might his own quietus make,
And end all his cares with a bodkin?

Ri tol de rol, sc.

Truly, death is a fine thing to talk of,

But I'll leave it to men of more learning;
For my own part, I've no wish to walk off,

For I find there's no chance of returning. -
After all, 'tis the pleasanter way,

T'o bear up as we can 'gainst our sorrow:
So if things go not easy to-day,
Let us hope they'll go better to-morrow.

Ri tol de rol, de.

Hamlet. Oh, ho! Ophelia here. I'll shew my airs. (Aside.) Think of my pranks, Ophelia, in your pray’rs.

Ophelia. I hope you're well, my Lord. (Aside) I fear he'll bite (c).

Methinks I'm something better, though not quite.

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