Oph. [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go

With true-love showers.

King. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph. Well, God 'ild 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 at your table!

King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. 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!

40

50

Oph. 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; 60
By cock, they are to blame.

Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.

He answers:

So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,

An thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long hath she been 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 70
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 80
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 judgement,
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.

Queen.

90

[A noise within. Alack, what noise is this?

King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the

door.

Gent.

Enter another Gentleman.

What is the matter?

Save yourself, my lord:

The ocean, overpeering of his list,

Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste. 100
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.

ΠΙΟ

[Noise within.

Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following.

Laer. Where is this king?
Danes. No, let's come in.
Laer.

Danes. We will, we will.

I

Sirs, stand you all without.

pray you, give me leave. [They retire without the door. Laer. I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,

Give me my father!

Queen.

Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me

King.

bastard;

Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot

Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brows
Of my true mother.

What is the cause, Laertes, 120
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?