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Capt. Truly to speak it, and with no addition,
To pay five ducats-five, I would not farm it ;
A ranker rate, fhould it be fold in fee.
Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
Ham. Two thoufand fouls, and twenty thousand ducats, Will not debate the queftion of this ftraw;
This is th' impofthume of much wealth and peace,
Rof. Will't please you go, my Lord?
Ham. I'll be with you ftrait, go a little before.
How all occafions do inform against me,
That capability and god-like reafon
To ruft in us unus'd. Now whether it be
Of thinking too precifely on th' 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 caufe, and will, and strength, and means
To do't. Examples, grofs as earth, exhort me ;
Led by a delicate and tender Prince,
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
When honour's at the ftake. How ftand I then,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot,
To hide the flain? O, then, from this time forth,
SCENE changes to a Palace.
Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman.
Will not speak with her.
Gent. She is importunate,
Indeed, diftract; her mood will needs be pitied.
Gent. She fpeaks much of her father; fays, the hears,
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 geftures yield them, Indeed, would make one think, there might be thought; Tho' nothing fure, yet much unhappily.
Ho.'Twere good she were spoken with, for fhe may ftrow Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. Let her come in.
Queen. To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is,
Each toy feems prologue to fome great amifs;
It fpills itself, in fearing to be fpilt.
Enter Ophelia, diftracted.
Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia?
Oph. How fhould I your true love know from another one? By his cockle hat and ftaff, and his fandal fhoon.
[Singing. Queen. Alas, fweet lady; what imports this fong? Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
He's dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone;
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia
Oph. Pray you, mark.
White his froud as the mountain fnow.
Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.
Oph. Larded all with fweet flowers:
King. How do ye, pretty lady?
Oph. Well, God yield you! they fay, 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, fay you this:
To-morrow is St. Valentine's day, all in the morn betime,
King. Pretty Ophelia !
Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't.
By Gis, and by S. Charity,
Young men will do't, if they come to't,
You promis'd me to wed:
So would I ba' done, by jonder fun,
King. How long has fhe been thus ?
Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patients but I cannot chufe but weep, to think, they should lay him i'th' cold ground; my brother fhall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good counfel. Come, my coach good night, ladies; good night, fweet ladies; good night, good night.
Her brother is in fecret come from France:
Gives me fuperfluous death!
Queen. Alack! what noife is this?
Enter a Meffenger.
[A noife within.
King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door. What is the matter?
Mef. Save yourself, my Lord.
The ocean, over-peering of his lift,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous hafte,
O'er-bears your officers; the rabble call him Lord;
The ratifiers and props of every Ward; (27)
Queen. How chearfully on the falfe trail they cry! Oh, this is counter, you falfe Danish dogs.
Enter Laertes, with a Party at the Door.
King. The doors are broke.
Laer. Where is this King? Sirs! stand you all without. All. No, let's come in.
(27) The Ratifiers and Props of ev'ry Word ;] The whole Tenour of the Context is fufficient to fhew, that this is a mistaken Reading. What can Antiquity and Cuftom, being the Props of Words, have to do with the Bufinefs in hand? Or what Idea is convey'd by it? Certainly, the Poet wrote;
The Railers and Props of ev'ry Ward;
The Meffenger is complaining, that the riotous Head had over-borne the King's Officers, and then fubjoins, that Antiquity and Custom were forgot, which were the Ratifiers and Props of every Ward, i. e. of every one of thofe Securities that Nature and Law place about the Perfon of a King. All this is rational and confequential. Mr. Warburton.