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A ROYAL APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE
Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman
I will not speak with her.
She is importunate ;
Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
What would she have ?
She speaks much of her father ; says she hears
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 gape 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.
'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Let her come in.
[Aside] 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 Gentleman, with OPHELIA
[Ophelia playing on a lute, and her hair down) Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark ? How now, Ophelia ?
[Sings] How should I your true love know
From another one ?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Say you ? nay, pray you,
[Sings] He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone ;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Nay, but, Ophelia, -
Pray you, mark.
[Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Alas, look here, my lord.
[Sings] Larded all with sweet flowers ;
Which bewept to the grave
go With true-love showers.
How do you, pretty lady?
Well, God yield 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 !
Conceit upon her father.
her father. This is a change indeed :
Oh Time, how swiftly runs our joys away!
Content on earth was never certain bred,
To-day we laugh and live, to-morrow dead.
Pray let's have no words of this ; but when they ask you
what it means, say you
(Sings] To-morrow is 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 donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chamber door ;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
Pretty Ophelia !
Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't-
[Sings] 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 promised me to wed :
Só would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed. How long hath she been thus? 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 Ophelia] Follow her close ; give her good watch, I pray you.
Oh, 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
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
dear Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering-piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death.
[A noise within]
Alack, what noise is this? Attend! where are my Switzers ? Let them guard the door.
What is the matter ?
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!”
How cheerfully on the false trail they cry !
Oh, this is counter, you false Danish dogs !
The doors are broke.
Enter Laertes, armed ; Danes following
Where is this king ?-Sirs, stand you all without.
No, let's come in.
I pray you, give me leave.
We will, we will.
[They retire without the door]
I thank you : keep the door.
O thou vile king-give me my father !
Speak ! say—where's my father?
Calmly, good Laertes.
That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard ;
Cries cuckold to my father ; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brows
Of my true mother.
What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ?
[The Queen restrains Laertes]
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 incensed. Let him
Where is my father?
But not by him.
Let him demand his fill.
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,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come what comes ; only I'll be revenged
Most throughly for my
Who shall stay you?
My will, not all the world's :
And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
Laer. King Queen King Laer.