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Or for some frontier *
Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground,
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole,
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. -
Ham. Why, then the Polack” never will defend it.
Cap. Yes, ’tis already garrison'd.
Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand
ducats,
Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies.—I humbly thank you, sir.
Cap. God be wiyou, sir. . [Erit Captain.
Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? .
Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little be-
fore. [Eveunt Ros. and Gos IL.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good, and market” of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse,”
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust 4 in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven; scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
Athought, which, quarter'd, hath but one partwisdom,

* 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.

SCENE V.
Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.

Enter Queen and Ho RATIO.

Queen. I will not speak with her.
Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract;

6 Since.

f

Her mood will needs be pitied. -
Queen. What would she have
Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears,
There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her
heart;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection; they aim" at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield
them, -
Indeed would make one think, there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
Queen. Twere good, she were spoken with; for she

may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds: Let her come in. [Erit HoRATIo.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy" seems prologue to some great amiss:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt,

Re-enter Ho RATIo, 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,
4. And his sandal shoon.9 [Singing.

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.
He is dead and gone;

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

O, ho?
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,
Oph. Pray you, mark.
White his shroud as the mountain snow,
[Sings,
Enter King.

Queen. Alas, look here, my 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 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,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine:

* Garnished. 2. Reward.

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Then up he rose, and don'd? his clothes,

And dupp'd 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,3
Alack, and sye for shame ' - -
Young men will do't, if they come tot;
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 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
All from her father's death: And now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude,

3 Do on, i.e. put on. 4 Do up. * Saints in the Roman Catholick Calendar.

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