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
Dan. No, let's come in.
[without.
Laer.
I pray you, give me leave.

Dan. We will, we will.

(They retire without the door.) Laer. I thank you:-keep the door. O thou Give me my father. [vile king, 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, Ger-
Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father?
King.

Queen.

Dead.

[trude;

But not by him. King. Let him demand his fill. [with Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled 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 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.

if

Good Laertes,

f you desire to know the certainty

Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,

[foe, That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and 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

Danes. (Within.) Let her come in.
Laer. How now! what noise is that?
Enter OPHELIA, fantastically dressed with straw
and flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt,

Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eve!-
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia !—
O heavens! 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 itself
After the thing it loves.

Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny :
And in his grave rain'd many a tear;—
Fare you well, my dove!
[revenge.
Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade
It could not move thus.

Oph. You must sing, Down a-down, an you cal 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 you, love, remember: and there is pansies, 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 daisy -I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died:-They say, he made a good end,

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,—(Singr.) Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, bell itself, She turns to favour, and to prettiness. Oph. And will he not come again? And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead,

Go to thy death-bed,

He never will come again.

His beurd was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll:

He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan; God'a mercy on his soul!

(Sings.)

And of all christian souls! I pray God. God be wi' you! [Exit Ophe

Laer. Do you see this, O God! King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you wil 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 gire,
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.

I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.
Enter Sailors.

1 Sail. God bless you, sir.
Hor. Let him bless thee too.

1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador

that was bound for England; if your name be Ho

ratio, as I am let to know it is.

Hor. (Reads.) Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the king; they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase: Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour; and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant, they got clear of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy; but they knew what they did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me with as much haste as thou would'st fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear, will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England; of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell.

He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET. Come, I will give you way for these your letters; And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him, from whom you brought them.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Another Room in the same.
Enter King and LAERTES.

King. Now must you conscience my acquit-
tance seal,

And you must put me in your heart for friend;
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That be, which hath your noble father slain,
Pursu'd my life.

Laer.
It well appears :-But tell me,
Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful and so capital in nature,
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things
You mainly were stirr'd up.
[else,
King.
O, for two special reasons;
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much uusinew'd,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
mother,

Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,
(My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,)
She is so conjunctive to my life and soul,
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a public count I might not go,
Is, the great love the general gender bear him:
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Work like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;

A sister driven into desperate terms;

Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age

For her perfections :-But my revenge will come. King. Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think,

That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
I loved your father, and we love ourself;
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,-
How now? what news?

Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say: I saw them not; They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them Of him that brought them.

King. Leave us.

Laertes, you shall hear them: [Exit Messenger. Reads.) High and mighty, you shall know, I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first of my sudden and more strange return. HAMLET. What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?

Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?

Laer. Know you the hand?
King.
And, in a postscript here, he says, alone :
"Tis Hamlet's character.
Can you advise me?

Naked,

Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come; That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, It warms the very sickness in my heart, Thus diddest thou.

King.

If it be so, Laertes, Will you be rul'd by me? As how should it be so? how otherwise?

Laer.

Ay, my lord; So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace. King. To thine own peace. If he be now re

turn'd,

As checking at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it,-I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe;
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it, accident.

Laer.

My lord, I will be rul'd,
The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.

King.
It falls right.
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him,
As did that one; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.

Laer.

What part is that, my lord? Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes King. A very ribband in the cap of youth, The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds, Importing health and graveness.-Two months since,

Here was a gentleman of Normandy,

I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wond'rous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.

Laer.

King. A Norman.

A Norman, was't?

He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this,-

Laer.

Why ask you this?

King. Not that I think, you did not love your father;

But that I know, love is begun by time;
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,

Dies in his own too-much: That we would do, We should do when we would; for this would changes,

And hath abatements and delays as many,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o'the ulcer:
Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake,
To shew yourself indeed your father's son
More than in words?

Laer.
To cut his throat i'the church.
King. No place, indeed, should murder sanc-
tuarize;

Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber:
Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home:
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together,

And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
Requite him for your father.

Laer.
I will do't:
And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue

Under the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

King. Let's further think of this; Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means, May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,

And that our drift look through our bad per

formance,

"Twere better not assay'd; therefore this project,
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,
If this should blast in proof. Soft ;-let me see :—
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,―
I ha't:

When in your motion you are hot and dry,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end,)
And that he calls for drink, I'll have preferr'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?
Enter Queen.

How now, sweet queen?

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow: Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

Laer. Drown'd! O, where?

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, That shews his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call

them:

There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds

When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread

wide;

And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up:
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native aud indu'd
Unto that element: but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laer.

Alas then, she is drown'd? Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelis, And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gon, The woman will be out.-Adieu, my lord! I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it. King. Let's follow, Gertrude; How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I, this will give it start again; Therefore, let's follow.

ACT V.

[Exil.

SCENE I.-A Churchyard.
Enter Two Clowns, with spades, &c.

1 Clo. Is she to be buried in christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation?

2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make ber grave straight: the crowner hath set on her, and finds it christian burial.

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned her self in her own defence?

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.

1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself wit tingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform: Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good here stands the man; good: If the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will be, nill he, be goes; mark you that: but if the water come ta him, and drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he, that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.

2 Clo. But is this law?

1 Clo. Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law.

2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been brried out of christian burial.

1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st: and the mare pity, that great folks shall have countenance is this world to drown or hang themselves, more that their even christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 2 Clo. Why, he had none.

1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost then understand the scripture? The scripture says, Adam digged: Could he dig without arms? N put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thy self

2 Clo. Go to.

1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter! 2 Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.

1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to say, the gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again

come.

2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance.

1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating: and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker: the houses that he makes, last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown.

(1 Clown digs, and sings.) In youth, when I did love, did love,

Methought, it was very sweet,

To contract, 0, the time, for, ah, my behove, O, methought, there was nothing meet. Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business? he sings at grave-making.

Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of

easiness.

Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employ

ment hath the daintier sense.

1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.

(Sings.)

(Throws up a skull.) Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say, Goodmorrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's; chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: Here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with them? mine ache to think on't.

1 Clo. A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, (Sings.)
For-and a shrouding sheet:
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

(Throws up a skull.) Ham. There's another: Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his fands will hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more? ha?

Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins? Hor. Ay, my lord, and calves-skins too. Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow : -Whose grave's this, sirrah?'

1 Clo. Mine, sir.

O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

2

Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, and not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 1 Clo. For no man, sir.

Ham. What woman then?

1 Clo. For none, neither.

Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

1 Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the age is grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave maker?

1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame FortinHam. How long's that since?

bras.

1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell born: he that is mad, and sent into England. that: It was that very day that young Hamlet was

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into Eng

land?

1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?

1 Clo. Very strangely, they say. Ham. How strangely

?

1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits. Ham. Upon what ground?

1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he rot?

1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before be die, will scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you (as we have many pocky corses now a days, that some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

Ham. Why he more than another?

trade, that he will keep out water a great while; 1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his dead body. Here's a skull now hath lain you i'the and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson earth three-and-twenty years.

Ham. Whose was it?

1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose do you think it was?

Ham. Nay, I know not.

poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. 1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

Ham. This? (Takes the skull.) 1 Clo. E'en that.

Where

stand

Hor. What's that, my lord?

Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o'this fashion i'the earth?

Hor. E'en so.

Ham. And smelt so? pah!

(Throws down the skull.) Hor. E'en so, my lord. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio? Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole? [sider so.

Hor. "Twere to consider too curiously, to conHam. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam: And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?

Imperious Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:

O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! But soft! but soft! aside:-Here comes the king. Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the corpse of Ophelia; LAERTES, and Mourners, following; King, Queen, their Trains, &c.

The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow?
And with such maimed rites! This doth betoken,
The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand
Fordo its own life. "Twas of some estate:
Couch we a while, and mark.

(Retiring with Horatio.)

Laer. What ceremony else?
Ham.

A very noble youth: Mark.

Laer. What ceremony else?

That is Laertes,

1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on ber:

Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.

Laer. Must there no more be done?
1 Priest.
No more be done!
We should profane the service of the dead,
To sing a requiem, aud such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.

Laer.

"row

Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer.

(Leaps into the grave.) The devil take thy soul!"

(Grappling with him.)

Ham. Thou pray'st not well.

I pr'thee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand.
King. Pluck them asunder.
Queen.
Hamlet, Hamlet'

All. Gentlemen,

Hor.

Good my lord, be quiet. (The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.)

Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

Queen. O my son! what theme?

Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.-What wilt thou do for her! King. O, he is mad, Laertes.

Queen. For love of God, forbear him.
Ham. 'Zounds, shew me what thou'lt do:
Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't
tear thyself?

Woul't drink up Esil? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't.-Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thoa'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen.
This is mere madness:
And thus a while the fit will work on him;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,
His silence will sit drooping.

Ham.
Hear you, sir;
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. [Ent.
King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait apa
him.-
[Exit Herit
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech
(To Laerts)
We'll put the matter to the present push.—
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son-
This grave shall have a living monument:
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt.
SCENE II-A Hall in the Castle.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO.
Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see
the other ;-

You do remember all the circumstance?
Hor. Remember it, my lord!

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of figh
That would not let me sleep: methought, I lay
Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,
And prais'd be rashness for it,-Let us know,
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall; and that should
teach us,

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.

Hor.

That is most certaie.

Ham. Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarf"d about me, in the dark Grop'd I to find out them: had my desire; Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew To mine own room again: making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal