Danes. No, let's come in.

I pray you, give me leave. Danes. We will, we will.

[They retire without the door. Laer. I thank you; keep the door. O thou vile

king, Give me my father! Queen.

Calmly, good Laertes. 105

[Laying hold of him. 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

Of my true mother.

What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? 110
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 go, 115

Speak, man.
Laer. Where is my father?


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


120 To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest

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 125 Most throughly for my father. King.

Who shall stay you?
Laer. My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I'll husband them 80

They shall go far with little.

Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
180 Of your dear father's death, is 't writ in your

That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend

and foe,
Winner and loser?
Laer. None but his enemies.

Will you know them then?
Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my

185 And like the kind life-rendering pelican,

Repast them with my blood.

Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman,
That I am guiltless of your father's death,

And am most sensibly in grief for it, 140 It shall as level to your judge:rent pierce

As day does to your eye. Danes. [Within.]

Let her come in. Laer. How now! what noise is that?

Re-enter Ophelia.
O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times

Burn out the sense aud virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with 145

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, 150 It sends some precious instance of itself

After the thing it loves.] Oph. [Sings.] They bore him barefaced on the bier:

[Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny ;)

And in his grave rained many a tear, - 155 Fare you well, my dove! Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade

It could not move thus.
Oph. [Sings.] You must sing a-down a-down,

And 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;



105 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. 0, you must wear your rue, with a difference. There's a daisy. I would give you_some

violets, but they withered all when my father 175 died. They say he made a good end,

[Sings.] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,

She turns to favour and to prettiness.


Oph. [Sings.] 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 beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.

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


And of all Christian souls, [I pray God.]
God buy you.

[Exit. 20 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

And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and

If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom

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 200

To give it due content.

Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral-
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his

No noble rite nor formal ostentation-
Cry to be heard, as 't were from heaven to 205

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.


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