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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, There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her heart; 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, Indeed would make one think, there might be thought, 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,

Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,

It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA.

Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia?

Oph. How should I your true-love know

From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff,

And his sandal shoon.

[Singing.

Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

, ho!

He is dead and gone, lady,

He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.

[Sings.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,

Oph.

Pray you, mark.

White his shroud as the mountain snow, [Sings.

Enter KING.

Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.

Oph.

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!

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

By Gis, and by saint Charity,
Alack, and fie, 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 la

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.

you.

[Exit.

King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray
[Exit Horatio.
O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death: And now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude,

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 unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,
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;
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death!

Queen.

King. Attend.

[A Noise within. Alack! what noise is this?

Enter a Gentleman.

Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door: What is the matter?

Gent.

Save yourself, my lord;

The ocean, overpeering of his list,

Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,

Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,

O'erbears your officers! The rabble call him, lord;

And, as the world were now but to begin,

Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word,

They cry, Choose we; Laertes shall be king!

Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!

Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.

King. The doors are broke.

[Noise within.

Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following.

Laer. Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without. Dan. No, let's come in.

Laer.

Dan. We will, we will.

I pray you, give me leave.

[They retire without the Door. Laer. I thank you :-keep the door.-O thou vile king, Give me my father.

Queen.

Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims me

bastard;

Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
Of my true mother.

King.
What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person;
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.-Tell me, Laertes,

Why thou art thus incens'd;-Let him go, Gertrude ;—~
Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father?

King.

Queen.

Dead.

But not by him.

King. Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation: To this point I stand,—

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