Nor will I yield to Norway, or the Pole,
A ranker rate, fhould it be fold in fee.

Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. Capt. Yes, 'tis already garrifon'd,

Ham. Two thousand fouls, and twenty thousand ducats,

Will not debate the question of this straw:

This is the impofthume of much wealth and peace; That inward breaks, and fhews no cause without Why the man dies.-I humbly thank you, fir. Capt. God be wi'ye, fir.

[Exit Captain. Rof. Will't please you go, my lord? Ham. I will be with you ftraight.

before.

Go a little [Exeunt Ros and the reft. How all occafions do inform against me, And fpurs my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good, and market of his time,

Be but to fleep, and feed ?

beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with fuch large difcourfe, Looking before, and after, gave us not

That capability and god-like reason

To fuft in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or fome craven scruple

Of thinking too precisely on the event,-
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part
wisdom,

And ever, three parts coward-I do not know,
Why yet I live to fay, This thing's to do;

Sith I have caufe, and will, and ftrength, and means.
To do't. Examples, grofs as earth, exhort me;
Witnefs, this army of fuch mafs and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince ;.
Whose spirit with divine ambition puft,
Makes mouths at the invincible event;

Expofing

Expofing what is mortal, and unfure,

To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Even for an egg-fhell. Rightly, to be great Is not to ftir without great argument; But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honour's at the ftake. How ftand I then, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep? while to my fhame, I fee The eminent death of twenty thoufand That, for a fantafy, and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot, Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough, and continent. To hide the flain ?-O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit.

men,

SCENE V. Elfineur. A Room in the Palace.

Enter the Queen, and HORATIO.

Queen. I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate: indeed, distracted; Her mood will needs be pity'd.

Queen. What would the have?

Hor. Shefpeaks much of her father; fays, fhe hears, There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;

Spurns enviously at ftraws; fpeaks things in doubt, That carry but half fenfe: her fpeech is nothing, Yet the unfhap'd use of it doth move

The hearers to collection; they aim at it,

And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, at her winks, and nods, and geitures yield

them,

Indeed

Indeed would make one think, there might be

thought,

Though nothing fure, yet much unhappily.

Queen. 'Twere good, fhe were fpoken with; for fhe may ftrew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds :

Let her come in.

[Exit HORATIO.

To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is,

Each toy feems prologue to fome great amifs
So full of artlefs jealoufy is guilt,

It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt.

Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA.

Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia ?

Oph. How Should I your true love know
From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff,
And by his fandal fhoon.

[Singing.

Queen. Alas, fweet lady, what imports this fong? Oph. Say you? pray you, mark.

ho!

He is dead and gone, lady,

He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a fone.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,-

Oph. Pray you, mark.

White his froud as the mountain fnow.

Enter King.

Queen. Alas, look here, y lord.

Oph. Larded all with sweet flowers;

Which bewept to the grave did go,
With true-love showers.

King. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph, Well, God 'ield you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be your table!

at

King. Conceit upon her father.

they afk

you

this:

Opb. Pray let's have no words of this; but when
what it means, say you
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,
your Valentine:

To be

Then up be rofe, and don'd his cloaths,
And dupt the chamber door ;

Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more,

King. Pretty Ophelia !

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end

on't.

By Gis, and by Saint Charity,

Alack, and fie for fhame!

Young men will do't, if they come to’t;
By cock, they are to blame.

Quoth fhe, before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to wed: He answers,
So would I ba' done, by yonder fun,
An thou hadst not come to my
bed.
King. How long hath the beer thus ?

Oph. 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 fhall know of it, and so I thank you for your I

good,

good counfel. Come, my coach! Good night, la dies; good night, fweet ladies; good night, good night.

pray you.

[Exit

King. Follow her clofe; give her good watch, 1 [Exit HORATIO O! this is the poifon of deep grief: It fprings All from her father's death. And now behold, C Gertrude, Gertrude,

When forrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions! First, her father flain;

Next, your fon gone; and he most violent autho Of his own juft remove: The people muddy'd, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whif

pers,

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 beafts.
Lait, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in fecret come from France :
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himfelf in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With peftilent fpeeches of his father's death;
Wherein neceffity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing ftick our perfon to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death!

[A noife within. Queen. Alack! what noise is this?

Enter a Gentleman.

King. Attend. Where are my Switzers? Let

them guard the door :

What