st unnatural murder." "Murder!" exclaimed
Hamlet. "Murder," said the ghost, "most foul, as in the best it is."
"Reveal it," gasped Hamlet, "that I may with swift wings sweep to my
revenge." "Thou shouldst be duller than the fat weed that rots itself
on Lethe's wharf, wert thou not to stir in this," ejaculated the
spirit. The ghost continued: "It has been given out, that, when
sleeping in mine orchard, a serpent stung me to death; but know thou
that the serpent that did sting thy father now wears his crown....
Sleeping within my orchard, as my custom was in the afternoon, on my
secure hour thy uncle stole with cursed juice of hebenon in a vial,
and did pour the leprous distilment into mine ears, that curdled my
blood. Thus was I, by a brother's hand, despatched from crown and
queen; cut off in the blossoms of my sin, unprepared, disappointed,
and, without extreme unction, sent to my account with all my
imperfections on my head. O, horrible! most horrible! Let not the
royal bed be a couch for luxury and damned incest. Farewell; the
glow-worm shows the morning to be near, and begins to pale his
ineffectual fire: Adieu! Remember me." The king's death was avenged.
The treacherous queen, and he who murdered the monarch, drank a
poisoned cup, and thus received measure for measure.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Poet Gay--The "Spell"--Hobnelia--Lubberkin going
to Town--A Maiden fine--Spells resorted to--Marking
the Ground, and turning three times round--Hempseed as
a Charm--Valentine Day--A Snail used in
Divination--Burning Nuts--Pea-cods as a
Spell--Ladybird sent on a Message of Love--Pippin
Parings--Virtue of United Garters--Love
Powder--Gipsies' Warnings--Knives sever Love--Story of
Boccaccio--Apparition of a Deceased Lover--Poems by
Burns--"Address to the Deil"--"Tam o' Shanter."

John Gay, the old English poet, writes in his _Spell_:

"Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,
In pensive mood rehearsed her piteous tale;
Her piteous tale the winds in sighs bemoan,
And pining Echo answers groan for groan.
I rue the day, a rueful day I trow,
The woeful day, a day indeed of woe!
When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove,
A maiden fine bedight he kept in love;
The maiden fine bedight his love retains,
And for the village he forsakes the plains.
Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear,
Spells will I try, and spells