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Quoth fhe, before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed:
So would I ha' done, by yonder fun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long hath fhe been thus?

Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot chufe but weep, to think they fhould lay him i'th' cold ground; my brother fhall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good counfel. Come, my coach; goodnight, Ladies; good-night, fweet Ladies; good-night, good-night.

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

you;

This is the poifon of deep grief, it fprings

All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude!
When forrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions. Firft, her father slain,

Next your fon gone, and he moft violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholefome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death. We've done but greenly,
In private to interr him; poor Ophelia

Divided from her felf, and her fair judgment,
(Without the which we're pictures, or mere beafts:)
Laft, and as much containing as all thefe,
Her brother is in fecret come from France,
Feeds on his anger, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With peftilent fpeeches of his father's death;
Whence animofity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our perfons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death.

9 Wherein neceffity,

[A Noife within.

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SCE NE VI.

Enter a Messenger.

King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door.

What is the matter?

Mef. Save your felf, my Lord.

The ocean over-peering of his lift

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, chufe we Laertes for our King:
The ratifiers and props of every word`

Caps, hands, and 2/houts, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes fhall be King, Laertes King.

Queen. How chearfully on the falfe trail they cry!
Oh this is counter, you false Danish dogs.

Enter Laertes.

King. The doors are broke.

[Noife within.

Laer. Where is the King? Sirs! ftand 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.

O thou vile King, give me my father.

Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me baftard,

Crys cuckold to my father, brands the harlot

Even here between the chafte and unfmirch'd brow

Of my true mother.

King. What is the cause, Laertes,

The ratifiers and props of every word

They cry, "chufe we Laertes for our King." 2 tongues

That

That thy rebellion looks fo giant-like?
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our perfon:
There's fuch divinity doth hedge a King,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
'Act little of its will. Tell me, Laertes,

Why are you thus incens'd? Let him go, Gertrude.
Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father?
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! Confcience and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation; to this point I ftand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Moft throughly for my father.

King. Who fhall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world's.

And for my means, I'll husband them fo well,
They fhall go far with little.

King. Good Laertes,

If you defire to know the certainty

Of your dear father's death, in your revenge

(That sweep-ftake) 4'will you draw both friend and foe, Winner and lofer ?

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,

Repaft 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 moft fenfibly in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce,
Cc 3

3 A&s

4 you will

As

As day does to your eye.

A noife within, Let her come in.

Laer. How now? what noife is that?

SCENE VII.

Enter Ophelia fantastically dreft with straws and flowers.

O heat, dry up my brains! tears feven times falt,
Burn out the fenfe and vertue of mine eye!

By heav'n, thy madness fhall be paid with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rofe of May!
Dear maid, kind fifter, fweet Ophelia!

O heav'ns, is't poffible 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 fends fome precious inftance of it felf
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 didft perfwade revenge, It could not move thus.

Oph. You must fing, down a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O how the wheel becomes it! it is the falfe fteward that ftole his mafter's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rofemary, 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 fome 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 fome violets, but they withered all when my father dy'd: they fay, he made a good end;

For bonny fweet Robin is all my joy.

Laer

Laer. Thought and affliction, paffion, 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, he 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 foul!

And of all christian fouls! God b'w'ye.
Laer. Do you fee this, you Gods?

[Exit Ophelia.

King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right: go but a-part,
Make choice of whom your wifeft friends you will,
And they fhall 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 fatisfaction. But if not,

Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we fhall jointly labour with your foul,
To give it due content.

. Laer. Let this be fo.

His means of death, his obfcure funeral,

No trophy fword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal oftentation,

Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heav'n to earth;
That I must call't in queftion.

King. So you fhall:

And where th' offence is, let the great ax fall.

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[Exeunt.

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