Laer.

We should do when we would; for this 120

"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:

back.

What would you 125

Hamlet comes

undertake,

To show yourself your father's son in deed.
More than in words?

To cut his throat i' the church.

King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctua

rize;

Revenge should have no bounds. But, good
Laertes,

Will you do this, keep close within your 180
chamber?

Hamlet returned 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 on your heads. He, being remiss, 135
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

140

145

150

155

Laer.

Requite him for your father.

I will do 't;
And, for that 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 scratched 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 performance,

"T were better not assayed; therefore this project

Should have a back or second, that might hold

If this did 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 prepared 160
him

A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venomed 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 drowned, 165 Laertes.

Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long 170
purples

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call
them;

There, on the pendant boughs her coronet
weeds

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke,
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes
spread wide,

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her

up;

175

180

Laer.

Which time she chanted snatches of old

tunes,

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element. But long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious
lay

To muddy death.

Alas, then, she is drowned?

185 Queen. Drowned, drowned.

190

195

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
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
gone,

The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord;
I have a speech of fire that fain would blaze,
But that this folly douts it.

King.

[Exit.

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.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A churchyard.

Enter two Clowns, with spades and pickaxes.

First Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial

when she wilfully seeks her own salvation? Sec. Clo. I tell thee she is, therefore make her grave straight. The crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.

First Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?

5

Sec. Clo. Why, 't is found so. First Clo. It must be "se offendendo," it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown 10 myself wittingly, it argues an act, and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform; argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

Sec. Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver, — 15
First 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 he, nill he, he goes,-mark you that;
but if the water come to him and drown him, 20