Hamlet

your table! King Conceit upon her father. Ophelia

Pray you, let’s have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: Sings.

To-morrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donn’d his clothes,
And dupp’d the chamber-door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.

King Pretty Ophelia! Ophelia

Indeed, la, without an oath, I’ll make an end on’t: Sings.

By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do’t, if they come to’t;
By cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.
So would I ha’ done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

King How long hath she been thus? Ophelia I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i’ the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night. Exit. King

Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. Exit Horatio.
O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father’s death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions. First, her father slain:
Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius’ death; and we have done but greenly,
In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France;
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father’s death;
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar’d,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death. A noise within.

Queen Alack, what noise is this? King Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. Enter another Gentleman. What is the matter? Gentleman

Save yourself, my lord:
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O’erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word,
They cry “Choose we: Laertes shall be king:”
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds:
“Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!”

Queen

How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

King The doors are broke. Noise within. Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following. Laertes Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without. Danes No, let’s come in. Laertes I pray you, give me leave. Danes We will, we will. They retire without the door. Laertes

I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,
Give me my father!

Queen Calmly, good Laertes. Laertes

That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard,
Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
Of my true mother.

King

What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
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, Gertrude.
Speak, man.

Laertes Where is my father? King Dead. Queen But not by him. King Let him demand his fill. Laertes

How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with:
To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
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
Most thoroughly for my father.

King Who shall stay you? Laertes

My will, not all the world:
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.

King

Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is’t writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?

Laertes None but his enemies. King Will you know them then? Laertes

To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms;
And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast 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 most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
As day does to your eye.

Danes Within. Let her come in. Laertes How now! what noise is that? Re-enter Ophelia.

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 by 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 moral as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ’tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

Ophelia

Sings.

They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain’d many a tear:⁠—

Fare you well, my dove!

Laertes

Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.

Ophelia

Sings.

You must sing a-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.

Laertes This nothing’s more than matter. Ophelia There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts. Laertes A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted. Ophelia

There’s fennel for you, and columbines: there’s rue for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it herb-grace o’ Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all