HAMLET Act 1, Sc. V  “Oh, my prophetic soul…”
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HAMLET Act 1, Sc. V “Oh, my prophetic soul…”

GHOST (Voice Over) But soft, methinks I scent the morning air. Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursèd hebona in a vial And in the porches of my ears did pour The …