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SEEMS RADIO IS HERE TO STAY
Narrator
Poor Hamlet, he has never been so interrupted.
He is making such a scene behind our engineers
It seems a pity to obtrude.
Obtrude ?
Why, come to think of it, our Mr. Hastings has more venom at his finger tips
Than the assassin Laertes upon his sword.
The turning of a dial can efface our Hamlet quicker
Than a most incisive foil.
Stand by to hear a Dane evaporate.
{Hamlet is faded)
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband: look you now what follows.
Here is your husband; like a mildew’d ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother.
Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed.
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes ?
You cannot call it love, for at your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it’s humble.
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have.
Else could you not have motion: but, sure, that sense
Is apoplex’d ; for madness would not err;
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne’er so thrall’d
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difierence.
Narrator. — Go, rest now, Hamlet.
You’ve been around the world and back And in a million homes
And in the tomb of him who gave you utterance. We’ve faded you and been discourteous, and that’s enough.
So thanks; so long; good-by;
We meet again some day
In some such pleasant studio as this.
A little music, please
For a departing royal gentleman.
Music. — ^‘Hamlet” flourish.
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