King.
And now, my cock of wax, I've prov'd that I
Have never had a finger in the pie.
Thinking to murder me, did Hamlet kill him.

Laertes.
O, let me catch him, and I'll sweetly mill him (g)8Q0022.

King.
That may you speedily.—E'en now I've learn'd,
Hamlet hath unexpectedly return'd.
Now, I've a scheme will suit us to a T;
'Twill keep suspicion too from you and me:
To his long home he quickly shall be sent,
And so, as it shall seem, by accident.

Laertes.
I will be rul'd by you: but plan it so,
That I may tip the rascal his death-blow.

King.
'Tis rumour'd you're a famous pugilist;—
Now, Hamlet oft hath long'd to try your fist:—
I'll have you box together for a wager!

Laertes.
To give him a sound drubbing I'll engage, Sir:
Depend upon't who's who I'll let him know.

King.
Contrive to give him an unlucky blow:
But, to make sure of him, (should this plan fail)
I'll put some ars'nic in a mug of ale;
And when he's hot and thirsty with the fight,
I'll give it him to drink—What think you?

Laertes.
Right! Enter Queen.

Queen.
Misfortunes ne'er come singly oft I've sound:
Now here's a pretty rig—Ophelia's drown'd.

SONG.—Queen. (Tune—“Our Polly is a sad slut.”)
Ophelia is a sad slut!
  In spite of all I'd taught her,
She went to fish for tittlebats,
  And fell into the water.
An envious bramble near the ditch
  Fast by the ankle caught her,
And sous'd her over head and heels,
  Slap-dash into the water.

Laertes.
Oh! I've a speech of fire; but like a spout,
My tears do play upon't, and put it out! [Exit.

King.
I've had enough to do to keep him quiet,
And now will he kick up another riot. [Exeunt.

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