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with you.Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.

Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.

Ham, Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. S'blood, do you think, I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play

upon me.

Enter POLONIUS.

God bless you, sir!

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
·Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is backed like weasel.
Ham. Or, like a whale?

Pol. Very like a whale.
Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by.
-They fool me to the top of my bent.-I will
come by and by.

friends.

Pol. I will say so. [Exit Polonius. Ham. By and by is_easily said.-Leave me, [Exeunt Ros. Guil. Hor. &c. 'Tis now the very witching time of night; When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes [blood, Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot And do such business as the bitter day

out

Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my mother.

O, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever,
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom :
Let me be cruel, not unnatural :

I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words soever she be shent,
To give them seals, never, my soul, consent!

[Exit.

SCENE III.-A Room in the same. Enter King, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us, To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you; I your commission will forthwith despatch, And he to England shall along with you: The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so uear us, as doth hourly grow Out of his lunes.

Guil.

We will ourselves provide: Most holy and religious fear it is, To keep those many many bodies safe, That live, and feed,

Ros. The single and on your majesty.

peculiar life is bound, With all the strength and armour of the mind, To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw

What's near it, with it: it is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy
voyage;

For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
Ros. Guil.

We will haste us. [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself,

To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him home :

'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother,
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege :
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

King.

Thanks, dear my lord. [Exit Polonius. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, A brother's murder!-Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will; My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence? And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,— To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder? My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: But 'tis not so above: There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: What can it not? Yet what can it, when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom, black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of steel,

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!All may be well! (Retires, and kneels.)

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't;-and so he goes to heaven:
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'd :
A villain kills my father; and, for that,
I, his sole son, do this same viliain send
To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save hea-
ven ?

But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,

When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No.

Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed;
At gaming, swearing; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't:

[Exit.

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven:
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
The King rises, and advances.
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain
below:

Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit.

SCENE IV. Another Room in the same.

Enter Queen and POLONIUS.

Pol. He will come straight. Look you, lay home to him;

Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with: [tween And that your grace hath screen'd and stood beMuch heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here. Pray you, be round with him. Queen. I'll warrant you; Fear me not-withdraw, I hear him coming. (Polonius hides himself.) Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now, mother; what's the matter? Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
Ham.

What's the matter now?

Queen. Have you forgot me? Ham. No, by the rood, not so: You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; And,-'would it were not so!-you are my mother. Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. [not budge; Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall You go not, till I set you up a glass, Where you may see the inmost part of you. Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murHelp, help, ho! [der me? Pol. (Behind.) What, ho! help! Ham. How now! a rat? (Draws.) (Hamlet makes a pass through the arras.) Pol. (Behind.) O, I am slain. (Falls and dies.) Queen. O me, what hast thou done? Ham. Is it the king?

Dead, for a ducat, dead.

Nay, I know not:

(Lifts up the arras, and draws forth Polonius.) Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! Ham. A bloody deed;-almost as bad, good mother,

As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Queen. As kill a king!

Ham.
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
(To Polonius.)
I took thee for thy better; take thy fortune:
Thon find'st, to be too busy, is some danger.-
Leave wringing of your hands: Peace; sit you

down,

And let me wring your heart: for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff;

If damned custom hath not braz'd it so,

That it be proof and bulwark against sense.

From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction placks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: Heaven's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.

Ah me, what act,

Queen. That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow: Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man: [follows: This was your husband.-Look you now what 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 reserv'd some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil wast
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious bell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame,
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
Queen.
O Hamlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots,

As will not leave their tinct.

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Queen. Alas! he's mad.

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide.

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag That, laps'd in time and passion, let's go by

thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Ham. Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; Call's virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose

The important acting of your dread command?
O, say

Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look! amazement on thy mother sits:

O, step between her and her fighting soul; Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works; Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham.

How is it with you, lady?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you?
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
Ham. On bim! on him!-Look you, how pale
he glares!

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable.-Do not look upon me ;
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert
My stern effects: then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Ham.
Do you see nothing there?
-$ Queen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing bear?

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Queen.
No, nothing, but ourselves.
Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals
away!

My father, in his habit as he liv'd;

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!
[Exit Ghost.
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.

Ham. Ecstasy!

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: It is not madness,
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness, speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place;
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue :
For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg;
Yea, curb and woo, for leave to do him good.
Queen. O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in
twain.

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night: but go not to my uncle's bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night:
And that shall lend a kind of easiness

To the next abstinence: the next more easy:
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night;
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you.-For this same lord,
(Pointing to Polonius.)
I do repent: But heaven hath pleas'd it so,-
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well

The death I gave him. So, again, good night!-
I must be cruel, only to be kind:

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.-
But one word more, good lady.
Queen.
What shall I do?
Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed:

Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,

Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,

But mad in craft. "Twere good, you let him know:
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the bids fly; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.

[breath,

Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.

Ham. I must to England; you know that?
Queen.

I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on.

Alack,

Ham. There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,

Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,-
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
And marshal me to knavery: Let it work;
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar: and it shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon: 0, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet.—
This man shall set me packing.

I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room :--
Mother, good night.-Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave,
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you:
Good night, mother.

[Exeunt severally; Hamlet, dragging in
Polonius.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-The same.

Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, and
GUILDENSTERN.

King. There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves

You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them: Where is your son?

Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.(To Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who go out.) Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night! King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both contend

Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat! arat!
And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.

King.
O heavy deed!
It had been so with us, had we been there :
His liberty is full of threats to all;
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
It will be laid to us, whose providence
Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,
This mad young man: but, so much was our love,
We would not understand what was most fit;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?

Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: O'er whom his very madness, like some ore, Among a mineral of metals base,

Shews itself pure; he weeps for what is done.
King, O, Gertrude, come away!

The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance and excuse.-Ho; Guildenstern'

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. Friends both, go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

[Exeunt Ros, and Guil. Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; And let them know, both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander,Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poison'd shot,-may miss our name, And hit the woundless air.-O come away! My soul is full of discord, and dismay.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another Room in the house.
Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Safely stow'd,-(Ros. &c. within. Hamlet! lord Hamlet!) But soft,-what noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come.

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. Ros. Tell us where 'tis; that we may take it thence, And bear it to the chapel.

Ham. Do not believe it. Ros. Believe what?

Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what replication should be made by the son of a king?

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again.

Ros. I understand you not, my lord. Ham. I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.

Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king.

Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thingGuil. A thing, my lord?

Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, [Exeunt.

and all after.

SCENE III.-Another Room in the same. Enter King, attended. King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the

body.

How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose?
Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,

Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
And, where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
This sudden sending him away must seem
Deliberate pause: Diseases, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,

Enter ROSENCRANTZ.

Or not at all.-How now? what hath befallen? Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him.

But where is be?

King. Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

King. Bring him before us.

Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN.

King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

Ham. At

supper.

King. At supper? where?

Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten :

a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en ti him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else, to fat us; and we fat ourselves for maggots: Your fat king, and your lea beggar, is but variable service; two dishes, but to one table; that's the end.

King. Alas! alas!

Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king; and eat of the fish that bath fed of that worm.

King. What dost thou mean by this?

Ham. Nothing, but to shew you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. King. Where is Polonius?

Ham. In heaven; send thither to see: if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him vớt within this month, you shall nose him as you get the stairs into the lobby.

King. Go seek him there. (To some Attendants. Ham. He will stay till you come.

[Exeunt Attendants. King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial

safety,

Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done,-must send ther

hence

With fiery quickness: Therefore, prepare thyself.
The bark is ready, and the wind at belp,
Th' associates tend, and every thing is beat
For England.
Ham. For England?

for

King. Ham.

Ay, Hamlet.

Good

King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them.-Bat, come England!-Farewell, dear mother.

King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.

Ham. My mother: Father and mother is mai and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and se, By mother. 'Come, for England. [Ent.

King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;

Delay it not, I'll have him bence to-night :
Away; for every thing is seal'd and done
That else leans on th' affair: Pray you, make hast
[Exeunt Ros, and Gui
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught
(As my great power thereof may give thee senst
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For like the hectic in
blood he rages,
my
And thou must cure me: Till I know "tis done.
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [Est.
SCENE IV.-A Plain in Denmark.
Enter FORTINBRAS, and Forces, marching.
For. Go, captain, from me, greet the Danish king
Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye,
And let him know so.
Cap.

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Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier?

Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground,
That hath in it no profit but the name.

To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole.
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd. [ducats,
Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand
Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace;
That inward breaks, and shews no cause without
Why the man dies.-I humbly thank you, sir.
Cap. God be wi' you, sir.
[Exit.
Ros.
Will't please you go, my lord?
Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little
before.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good, and market of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,-

A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom,

And, ever, three parts coward,-I do not know
Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do;
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince;
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,

To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great,
Is, not to stir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,

When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason, and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough, and continent,
To hide the slain?-O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit.
SCENE V.-Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Queen and HORATIO.

Queen. I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract; Her mood will needs be pitied.

Queen. What would she have? Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears, [heart; There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, [thought, Indeed would make one think, there might be Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds:
Let her come in.

[Exit Horatio.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,

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While his shroud as the mountain snow, (Sings.) Enter King.

Oph.

Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go,
With true-love showers.

King. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph. Well, God'ield you! They say, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table!

King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,

To be your Valentine:

Then up he rose,

and don'd his clothes,

And dupp'd the chamber door;

Let in the maid, that out a maid

Never departed more.

King. Pretty Ophelia!

[on't:

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end By Gis, and by Saint Charity,

Alack, and fy for shame!

Young men will do't, if they come to't;

By cock, they are to blame.

Quoth she, before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to wed:

(He answers.)

So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. King. How long hath she been thus?

Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they should lay him i'the cold ground: My brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night. [Exit. King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I [Exit Horatio. O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death: And now behold, O Gertrude, Gertrude,

pray you.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions! First, her father slain;
Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
Of his own just remove: The people muddied,
Thick and unwholsome in their thoughts and
whispers,
[greenly,
For good Polonius' death; and we have done but
In hugger-mugger to inter him: Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France:
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;

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