Imatges de pÓgina

Quoth she, before you tu mbled me,

You promis'd me to wed :
So would I ha done, by yonder sun,

An ihou badst 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 chuse but weep, to think they should lay him i'ch' cold ground; my brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach ; goodnight, Ladies ; good-night, sweet Ladies ; good-night, good-night.

{Exit. King. Follow her close, give her good watch, I pray

This is the poison of deep grief, it springs
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude !
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions. First, her father nain,
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." We've done but greenly,
In private to interr him; poor Ophelia
Divided from her self, and her fair judgment,
(Without the which we're pictures, or mere beasts :)
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his anger, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death ;
D'Whence animosity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our persons to arraign
In ear and ear. Omy dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death,

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[A Noise witbin.

9 Wherein necessity,

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S c с Е N E VI.

Enter a Messenger. King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the

door. What is the matter?

Mes. Save your self, my Lord. The ocean over-peering of his list Eats not the flats with more impetuous hafte, · Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, O'er-bears your officers ; the rabble call him Lord, And as the world were now but to begin, (Antiquity forgot, custom not known) ''They cry, chuse we Laertes for our King : The ratifiers and props of every word Caps, hands, and 'İhouts,' applaud it to the clouds, Laertes Mall be King, Laertes King.

Queen. How chearfully on the false trail they cry!
Oh this is counter, you false Danilo dogs. (Noise within.

Enter Laertes.
King. The doors are broke.
Laer. Where is the King ? Sirs! stand you all without.
All. No, let's come in.
Laer. I pray you give me leave.
All. We will, we will.

Laer. I thank you ; keep the door.
Othou vile King, give me my father.

Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.
Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me

Crys cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
Even here between the chaste and unsmirch'd brow
Of my true mother.
King. What is the cause, Laertes,

That i The ratifiers and props of

every word They cry, “chule we Laertes for our King." 2 tongues

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,
3 Act' little of its will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why are you thus incens'd ? Let him go, Gertrude.
Speak, man.
Laer. Where is


King. Dead.
Queen. 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 black devil!
Conscience and gráce, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation ; to this point I stand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
Most throughly for my father.

King. Who shall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world's.
And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.

King. Good Laertes,

desire to know the certainty of your dear father's death, in your revenge (That sweep-stake) +'will you draw both friend and foe, Winner and loser ?

Laer. None but his enemies.
King. Will you know them then ?

Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms,
And like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
Repast them with my blood.

King. Why, now you speak
Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am most sensibly in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce,


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As day does to your eye.

A noise witbin, Let her come in. Laer. How now? what noise is that?

Enter Ophelia fantastically drest with straws and flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains ! tears seven times falt,
Burn out the sense and vertue of mine eye!
By heav'n, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May
Dear maid, kind lifter, sweet Ophelia!
O heav'ns, is't possible a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of it self
After the thing it loves.

Oph. They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier,
And on his grave rains many a tear;

Fare you well, my dove!
Laer. Hadft thou thy wits, and didst perswade revenge,
It could not move thus.

Oph. You must sing, down a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O how the wheel becomes it! it is the false steward that stole his master's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance ; pray, love, remember ; and there's pancies, that's for thoughts.

Laer. A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays : you may wear your rue with a difference. There's a dafie; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father dy'd : they day, he made a good end ; For bonny Sweet Robin is all my joy.


Laer, Thought and aMiction, passion, hell it felf,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.

Oph. And will be not come again?
And will be not come again?
No, no, be is dead, go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.
His beard as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll :
He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away moan,

Gramercy on his soul !
And of all christian souls! God b'w'ye. [Exit Ophelia.

Laer. Do you see this, you Gods?

King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me

deny me right : go but a-part,
Make choice of whom your wifest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me ;
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours
To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labour with your soul,
To give it due content.
· Laer. Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral,
No trophy sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation,
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heav'n to earth;
That I must call’t in question.

King. So you shall :
And where th' offence is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you go with me.


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