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King. Go seek him there,
Ham. He will stay 'till ye come.
King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,
(Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done) must send thee hence
With fiery quickness ; then prepare thy self,
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
Th' associates tend, and every thing is bent
For England ?
Ham. For England ?
King. Ay, Hamlet.
King. So is it, if thou knew'it our purposes.
Ham. I see a Cherub that sees them, but come, for
England! farewel, dear mother!
King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
Ham. My mother : father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England!
King. Follow him at foot, tempt him with speed aboard;
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night,
Away, for everything is feal'd and done
That else leans on th'affair ; pray you make haste.
(Exeunt Rosincrofle and Guildenstern.
And, England! if my love thou hold'st at aught,
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
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 3 'set by!
Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
By letters congruing to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England :
For like the hectick in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me ; 'till I know 'tis done,
How-e'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [Exit.
S с E N E IV.
A Camp on the Frontiers of Denmark, .
Enter Fortinbras with an Army. .
O, captain, from me greet the Danish King,
Tell him that by his license, Fortinbras
Claims the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his realm. You know the rendevouz.
If that his Majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye,
And let him know so.
Capt. I will do't, my
For. Go foftly on. [Exit Fortinbras, with the Army.
Enter Hamlet, Rosincrofle, &c.
Ham. Good Sir, whose powers are these?
Capt. They are of Norway, Sir.
Ham. How purpos'd, Sir, I pray you?
Capt. Against some part of Poland.
Ham. Who commands them, Sir ?
Cap. The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras.
Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, Sir,
Or for some frontier?
Capt. Truly to speak it, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground
Thac hath in it no profit but the name.
five ducats-fiveI 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. Capt. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd. Ham. Two thousand souls, and + 'many thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw ; This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace,
That - twenty
That inward breaks, and shews no cause without
Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, Sir.
Capt. God b'w'ye, Sir.
Rof. Will't please you go, my Lord?
Ham. I'll be with you, go a little before. [Exeunt.
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 god-like reason
To rust in us unus'd. Now whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on th’ event,
(A thought which quartered 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 grofs as earth exhort me ;
Witness this army of such mass and charge
Led by a delicate and tender Prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puft
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Ev’n for an egg-shell. 'Tis not to be great,
Never 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 seep, while to my shame I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That for a fantasie and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a spot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not comb énough and continent
To hide the sain ? O then from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit.
S C Ε Ν Ε V.
s Enter Queen, and a Gentleman. Queen. I will
not speak with her.
Gent. She is importunate,
Indeed distract ; her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen. What would lhe have ?
Gent. She speaks much of her father ; says she hears
There's tricks i'th' 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.
6''Twere good the were spoken with, for the may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in
To my fick soul,' as fin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss;
So full of artless jealousie is guilt,
It spills it self in fearing to be spilt.
Enter Ophelia distracted.
Opb. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
Enter Queen, Horatio and a Gentleman.
6 Her. 'Twere good she were spoken with, for the may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill breeding minds.
Let her come in
Queer. To my Gck foul, &c.
Queen. How now, Ophelia ?
Oph. How should I your true love know from another one ? By his cockle bat and staff, and his sandal shoon. [Singing.
Queen. Alas, sweet Lady; what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you mark.
He's dead and gone, Lady, he's dead and gone,
At bis head a grass-green turf, at bis heels a stone.
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia.
Oph. Pray you mark.
White bis proud as the mountain (now.
Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.
Oph. Larded with sweet flowers :
Which bewept to the grave did go,
With true-love showers. King. How do ye, pretty Lady?
Oph. Well, Godild 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: To-morrow is St. Valentine's day, all in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine. Then up be rose, and don'd bis cloaths, and 7 op'd' the
Let in S/a maid, but' out a maid never departed more.
King. Pretty Opbelia!
Oph. Indeed? without an oath, I'll make an end on't.
By Gis, and by S. Charity;
Alack, and fie for shame,
Young men will do't, if they come toʻl,
By cock they are to blame.
dupt ... old edit. Warb. emend. d'opt i.e. do open. & the maid, that