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Or for some frontier *
* Polander. 2. Profit. 3 Power of comprehension. *Grow mouldy. 5 Cowardly.
And, ever, three parts coward, I do not know Why yet Ilive to say, This thing's to do; Sith." I have cause, and will, and strength, and means, To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me: Witness, this army of such mass, and charge, Led by a delicate and tender prince; Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, Makes mouths at the invisible event; Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare, Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great, Is, not to stir without great argument; But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honour's at the stake. How stand 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 shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy, 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 slain 2—O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! [Erit.
Enter Queen and Ho RATIO.
Queen. I will not speak with her.
Her mood will needs be pitied. -
may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds: Let her come in. [Erit HoRATIo.
To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Re-enter Ho RATIo, with OPHELIA.
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Oph. How should I your true love know
7 Guess. 8 Trifle. 9 Shoe. WOL. X. R
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady, [Sings.
At his head a grass-green turf,
Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.
Oph. Larded" all with sweet flowers;
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 at your table! King. Conceit upon her father. Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you, what it means, say you this:
Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,
And I a maid at your window,
* Garnished. 2. Reward.
Then up he rose, and don'd? his clothes,
And dupp'd 4 the chamber door;
Never departed more.
King. Pretty Ophelia
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
King. How long hath she been thus?
Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be pa tient: 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. [Erit.
King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I
pray you. * ... [Evit HoRATIo.
O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
3 Do on, i.e. put on. 4 Do up. • Saints in the Roman Catholick Calendar.