That inward breaks, and fews no caufe without
Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, Sir.
Capt. God b'w' ye, Sir.

Rof. Will't pleafe you go, my Lord?

Aam. I'll be with you ftrait, go a little before. [Exe.
Manet Hamlet.

"How all occafions do inform against me,
"And fpur my dull revenge? What is a man,
"If his chief good and market of his time
"Be but to fleep and feed? a beast, no more.
"Sure, he that made us with fuch large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not

"That capability and god-like reafon

"To ruft in us unus'd. Now, whether it be "Bestial oblivion, or fome craven fcruple

"Of thinking too precisely on th' event,

"(A thought, which, quarter'd hath but one part wifdom,

"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 strength, and means "To do't. Examples, grofs as earth, exhort me; "Witness this army of fuch mass and charge,

"Led by a delicate and tender prince,

"Whofe fpirit, with divine ambition puft, "Makes mouths at the invifible event;

Expofing what is mortal and unfure

"To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
"Ev'n for an egg-fhell. 'Tis not to be great,
Never to ftir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,

When honour s at the stake. How ftand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother ftain'd,
(Excitements of my reafon and my blood),
And let all fleep? while, to my thame, I fee
The imminent death of twenty thousand men;
That for a phantafy and trick of tame
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot,
Whereon the numbers cannot try the caufe,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
VOL. VIII.

To hide the flain? O then, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit.

SCENE V. Changes to a palace.

Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman.
Queen. I will not fpeak with her.
Gent. She is importunate,

Indeed, distract; her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen What would she have?

Gent She fpeaks much of her father; fays fhe hears, There's tricks i' th' world; and hems, and beats her

heart;

Spurns enviously at ftraws; fpeak things in doubt,
That carry but half fenfe: her speech is nothing,
Yet the unfhaped 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; Tho' nothing fure, yet much unhappily.

Hor. 'Twere good fhe were spoken with, for she may
Dangerous conjectures in ill breeding minds.
Let her come in.-

Queen. To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is,
Each toy feems prologue to fome great amifs;
So full of artless jealoufy is guilt,

It fpills itself, in tearing to be spilt.

Enter Ophelia diftracted.

[Arow

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 his fandal shoon. [Singing.
Queen. Alas, fweet Lady; what imports this fong?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

He's dead and gone, Lady, he's dead and gone;
At his head a green grafs turf, at his heels a ftone.

Enter King.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia

Oph. Pray you, mark.

White the Shroud as the mountain-fnow.

Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.

Oph. Larded all with fweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true love-showers.

King. How do ye, pretty Lady?

Opb. Well, God yield you! They fay, 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, fay you this:

To-morrow is St Valentine's day, all in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine. Then up be rofe, and don'd his cloaths, and do'pt the chamber-door ;

Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more.

King, Pretty Ophelia!

@ph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't.

By Gis, and by S. 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:

So would I ha' done, by yonder fun,

And thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long has fhe been thus!

Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot chufe but weep, to think, they fhould lay him i' th' cold ground; my brother fhall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good countel. Come, my coach; good night, Ladies; good night, fweet Ladies; good night, good night.

[Exit.

King. Follow her clofe, give her good watch, I pray

you;

[Exit Horatio.

This is the poifon of deep-grief: it fprings

All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude!
When forrows come, they come not fingle fpies,
But in battalions. First, her father flain;

Next your

fon gone, and he moft violent author

Of his own just remove; the people muddied,

Thick and unwholfome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death; (we've done but greenly,
In private to inter him); poor Ophelia,

Divided from her felf, and her fair judgment;
(Without the which we're pictures or inere beafts):
Laft, and as much containing as all thefe,
Her brother is in fecret come from France:
Feeds on this wonder, keeps himself 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 flick our perfons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murthering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death!

Queen, Alack! what noife is this?

[Anoife within.

Enter a Meffenger.

King. Where are my Switzers.? let them guard the

What is the matter?

Me. Save yourself, my Lord.

The ocean, overpeering of his lift,

Eats not the flats with more impetuous haffe,

Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,

[door.

O'rbears your officers; the rabble call him, Lord;
And as the world were now but to begin,

Antiquity forgot, cuftom not known,

The ratifiers and props of every ward;

The cry

"Chufe we Laertes for our King." Caps, hands, and tongues, appland it to the clouds; "Laertes (hall be King, Laertes King !"

Queen. How chearfully on the falle trail they cry! ab, this is counter, you falfe Danifhdogs. [Noife within

Enter Laertes, with a party at the door.

King The doors are broke.

Laer. Where is this King? Sirs! ftand you alí

without.

All. No, let's come in.

Laer. I pray you give me leave,
All. We will, we will.

Laer. I thank you, keep the door.
O thou vile King, give me my father.
Queen. Calmly, good Laertes..

[Exeunt

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot (bastard ;; Even here, between the chafte and unfmirch'd brow Of my true mother.

King. What is the caufe, Laertes,

That thy rebellion looks fo giant-like?

Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our perfon :
There's fuch divinity doth hedge a King,

That treafon can but peep to what it would,

Acts little of its will. Tell me, Laertes,

Why are you thus incens'd? Let him go, Gertrude,

Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father ?

King Dead.

Queen But not by him.

King. Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:: To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Confcience and grace, to the profoundest pit!

I dare damnation; to this point 1 ftand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
Moft throughly for my father:

King. Who fhall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world;

And for my means, I'll husband them fo well,
They shall go far with little.

King. Good Laertes,

If you defire to know the certainty

Of your dear father, is't writ in your revenge,

(That fweep-ftake) you will both draw friend and foe,,