_Dutchesse_ Sleepe rocke thy braine, 130 And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine. _exit Lady_ _Ham._ Madam, how do you like this play? _Queene_ The Lady protests too much. _Ham._ O but shee'le keepe her word. _King_ Haue you heard the argument, is there no offence 135 in it? _Ham._ No offence in the world, poyson iniest, poison in iest. _King_ What do you call the name of the play? _Ham._ Mouse-trap: mary how trapically: this play is The image of a murder done in _guyana_, _Albertus_ 140 Was the Dukes name, his wife _Baptista_, Father, it is a knauish peece a worke: but what A that, it toucheth not vs, you and I that haue free Soules, let the galld iade wince, this is one _Lucianus_ nephew to the King. 145 _Ofel._ Ya're as good as a _Chorus_ my lord. _Ham._ I could interpret the loue you beare, if I sawe the poopies dallying. _Ofel._ Y'are very pleasant my lord. _Ham._ Who I, your onlie jig-maker, why what shoulde 150 a man do but be merry? for looke how cheerefully my mother lookes, my father died within these two houres. _Ofel._ Nay, t'is twice two months, my Lord. _Ham._ Two months, nay then let the diuell weare blacke, For i'le haue a sute of Sables: Iesus, two months dead, 155 And not forgotten yet? nay then there's some Likelyhood, a gentlemans death may outliue memorie, But by my faith hee must build churches then, Or els hee must follow the olde Epitithe, With hoh, with ho, the hobi-horse is forgot. 160 _Ofel._ Your iests are keene my Lord. _Ham._ It would cost you a groning to take them off. _Ofel._ Still better and worse. _Ham._ So you must take your husband, begin. Murdred Begin, a poxe, leaue thy damnable faces and begin, 165 Come, the croking rauen doth bellow for reuenge. _Murd._ Thoughts blacke, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing. Confederate season, else no creature seeing: Thou mixture rancke, of midnight weedes collected, With _Hecates_ bane thrise blasted, thrise infected, 170 Thy naturall magicke, and dire propertie, One wholesome life vsurps immediately. _exit._ _Ham._ He poysons him for his estate. _King_ Lights, I will to bed. _Cor._ The king rises, lights hoe. 175 _Exeunt King and Lordes._ _Ham._ What, frighted with false fires? Then let the stricken deere goe weepe, The Hart vngalled play, For some must laugh, while some must weepe, Thus runnes the world away. 180 _Hor._ The king is mooued my lord. _Hor._ I _Horatio_, i'le take the Ghosts word For more then all the coyne in _Denmarke_.