between
maids'
legs. Oph.
What is,
my lord?
Ham.
Nothing.
Oph. You
are merry,
my lord.
Ham. Who,
I? Oph.
Ay, my
lord. Ham.
O God,
your only
jig-maker!
What
should a
man do but
be merry?
For look
you how
cheerfully
my mother
looks, and
my father
died
within 's
two hours.
Oph. Nay
'tis twice
two
months, my
lord. Ham.
So long?
Nay then,
let the
devil wear
black, for
I'll have
a suit of
sables. O
heavens!
die two
months
ago, and
not
forgotten
yet? Then
