When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat,-extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a-making,—
You must not take for fire. [From this time
Be something scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments2 at a higher rate
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet.
Believe so much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walk
Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,3
Not of that dye which their investments1 show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile.] This is for all:
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,—
Their virtues else-be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo-
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: the dram of eale
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
To his own scandal.]
Hor.
Look, my lord, it comes!
Enter GHOST.
Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend
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