Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cryl 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 without. Calmly, good Laertes. Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims me bastard. King. Why thou art thus incens'd;- Let him go, Ger trude; Speak, man. Laer. Where is my father? King. Queen. Dead. But not by him. King. Let him demand his fill. Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! To this point I stand, 9 Scent. 1 Hounds run counter when they trace the scent backwards. That both the worlds I give to negligence, King. Who shall stay you? Laer. My will, not all the world's: And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, King. Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear father's death, is 't writ in your re venge, That, sweepstake,' you will draw both friend and foe, 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 arms; And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, my blood. Repast them with Danes. [Within.] Let her come in. Enter OPHELIA, fantastically dress'd with Straws and Flowers. O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! 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 fine2 in love: and, where 'tis fine, Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier; And in his grave rain'd Fare you well, my dove! many a tear; Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus. 3 Oph. You must sing, Down-a-down, an you call 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. There 's a 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. 4 — 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, [Sings. Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour, and to prettiness. 2 Artful. 3 The burthen. 4 i. e. By its Sunday name, "herb` of grace," mine is merely rue, i. e. sorrow. Oph. And will he not come again? Go to thy death-bed, He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: And we cast away moan; And of all christian souls! Adieu. Laer. Do you see this, O God? [Sings. [Exit OPHELIA. King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, Be you content to lend your patience to us, Laer. No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones, Cry to be heard, as 't were from heaven to earth, That I must call 't in question. King. So you shall, And where the offence is, let the great axe fall. I pray you, go with me. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Another Room in the same. Enter HORATIO, and a Servant. Hor. What are they, that would speak with me? I do not know from what part of the world 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 Horatio, 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 chace: Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on 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. |