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Is't the King?
Queen. 0, Hamlet! you have done a deed felonious ; You've kill'd our poor lord-chamberlain, Polonius!
- They who throw stones should mind their windows,
mother. Who kill'd a king and married with his brother? .'
Hamlet. (Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.) Thou'st paid for list'ning to what don't concern thee. (To Queen.) Leave wringing of your hands ; before
we part, I'll take the liberty to wring your heart.
What have I done that you dare make so free,
Hamlet. Oh! such an act—it scarcely can be nam'd So bad- I wonder you're not more asham'd. Jump o'er a broomstick (1), but don't make a farce on The marriage ceremonies of the parson.
(Tuner Drops of Brandy.“).
Come sit you down here, ma'am, a little,
And I'll shew you two counterfeit faces ;
Come, none of your fine airs and graces.
Like a ploughman so plump and so chubby;
Ri tol, fc
You'll now please to look upon this :
I'd have married a monkey as soon
Zounds! the fellow looks like a baboon!
The one I now hold in my hand, mother?
Ri tol, fc.
Hamlet. Nay, but to live, (in not the best repute,) With that inhuman, cruel, murd'rous, brute; A very Filch, that more deserves to hang Than any one of the light-finger'd gang; That from a shelf the precious crown did thieve, And put it in his pocket-without leave: A King of shreds and patches-/Enter Ghost,) Ha!
here's dad ! What is't you're come about?
Alas! he's mad!
TRIO.-HAMLET, Ghost, Queen.
(Tune-“0, Lady Fair.")
Hamlet_O, spectre grim! What brings thee here now?
Thou com’st thy tardy son to chide, I fear now.
Don't be in a hurry, and all shall be right done. Ghost — Thee of thy promise I come to remind, Sir :(Bass) A nod's like a wink to a horse that is blind, Sir.
Queen- Say, Hamlet, say, on what art thou staring;
So frighten'd am I, that I vow 'tis past bearing.
I can see nothing! 0, where art thou walking ? Ghost — But look at thy mother; she seems in a stew, Sir;
Tell her.she'd better not be frighten'dmpray do, Sir!
Hamlet --Whom 'tis I look at, fain you'd be knowing :
Straight thro' the trap-door now he's going.
Who thro' the trap-door now is going ?
Hamlet. Then throw away the rotten part, good mother, And strive to make a better use of t'other. Good night; and, when you next lay down your head, Be sure you kick my uncle out of bed :