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

Rosen.
He does confess himself non compos mentis,
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 (a)8Q0011.

Queen.
Did you not try to get him out to play?

Rosen.
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.

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

King.
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.

Rosen.
My Lord, we'll do our best. [Exeunt Guild. and Rosen.

King.
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.

Ophelia.
I think so too. Exit Queen.

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. Enter Hamlet.

SONG.—Hamlet. (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, &c.
To die is to sleep—nothing more—
  And by sleeping to say we end sorrow,
And pain, and ten thousand things more—
  O, 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 notion of dreams in a coffin.
Ri tol de rol, &c.
'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, &c.
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 pleasantest way,
  To bear up as we can 'gainst our sorrow;
And if things go not easy to day,
  Let us hope they'll go better to-morrow.
Ri tol de rol, &c.

Hamlet. (Seeing Ophelia)
Think on my sins, Ophelia, when you pray.

Ophelia.
My Lord, I hope I see you well to-day?

Hamlet.
I humbly thank you, pretty well, my dear.

Ophelia.
My Lord, I've brought you back your presents here—
The things you bought me at the fair, you know.

Hamlet.
I never gave you aught.

Ophelia.
You can't say so:

You know you gave them, and with words bewitching,
Last week when I was sitting in the kitchen:
But now you're surly they're not worth a penny—
So take them back.

Hamlet.
I never gave you any.

SONG.—Hamlet. (Tune—“Mr. Mug.”)
Let me tell you, Miss Ophelia, your behaviour's very rude,
And your whims and freaks and fancies ought in time to be subdued;
So if my advice will better you, to give it 'tis my duty:—
Imprimis:—let your honesty discourse not with your beauty.
Won't you, won't you, won't you to a nunnery go?
I told you once I lov'd you, but 'twas easy to perceive
That I did'nt care a fig for you, as now you will believe.
In future trust to none of us; we're arrant knaves at best;
And I (as soon you'll find) am no better than the rest.
Won't you, won't you, &c.
If you marry (just to comfort you) this plague take for your portion,
That calumny will twig you, tho' you act with greatest caution.
But get some fool to marry you, if disengag'd your heart is;
I shall not tell the reason—but 'twere better for both parties.
Won't you, won't you, &c.

I've lately been inform'd that you paint both red and white;
Heav'n gave you one face, and to make another is not right.
Your pranks have made me mad—Marriage bells no more shall jingle—
The married may remain so, but the rest shall all keep single.
Won't you, won't you, &c. [Exit Hamlet.

Ophelia.
O, what a pity such a charming lad
Should, at his time of life, go raving mad!
He says he loves me not—I'll call him in again,
And his affections try to win again. RECITATIVE (accompanied), and DUETT; (b)8Q0012 Hamlet and Ophelia.

Recitative.

Ophelia.
Dear Hamlet, pray come back. (Enter Hamlet.) I'm your's for ever.

Hamlet.
And shall we never part, love?

(Together.)
Ah! no, never!

Duett. (Tune—“I've kiss'd and I've prattled.”) Hamlet.
I've made love to fifty young women in Denmark,
  And chang'd them as oft d'ye see:
But if she would promise to love me—why then mark—
  Ophelia's the maid for me. Ophelia.
I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty young fellows,
  And chang'd them as oft d'ye see:
But if he would be not so devilish jealous,
  Young Hamlet's the lad for me. Hamlet.
Your father, I know, doesn't much like the match,
  But we in our choice will be free;
I'm a prince—and he ought to be glad of the catch,
  For Ophelia's the maid for me. Ophelia.
We know very well that advice cheap as dirt is,
  And plenty I've had d'ye see:
But in spite of the lessons of brother Laertes,
  Young Hamlet's the lad for me. Hamlet and Ophelia.
Then here be an end to our squabbles and strife
  And happy for ever we'll be. Ham.
And as no other woman shall e'er be my wife, Oph.
And as no other man shall e'er make me his wife, Ham.
  Ophelia's the maid for me. Oph.
  Young Hamlet's the lad for me. [Exeunt.

Previous section

Next section