Ham. Who commands them, sir? Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Cap. Truly to speak, and with no addition, A ranker rate should it be sold in fee. Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. 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, [Exit. Ros. How all occasions do inform against me, To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom Why yet I live 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, To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, When honour's at the stake. How stand I, then, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, SCENE V.-ELSINORE. A Room in the Castle. Enter QUEEN and HORATIO. Queen. I will not speak with her. Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract: Her mood will needs be pitied. Queen. What would she have? [Exit. 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, 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew [Exit HORATIO. To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. Re-enter HORATIO with OPHELIA. Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Oph. How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mārk. [Sings. King. How do you, pretty lady? Oph. Well, God dild 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: 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 King. Pretty Ophelia! [Sings. Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't: By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fie for shame! Young men will do't, if they come to❜t; By cock, they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promis'd me to wed. So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, King. How long hath she been thus? [Sings. 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 shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel.-Come, my coach!-Goodnight, ladies; good-night, sweet ladies; good-night, goodnight. [Exit. King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. [Exit HORATIO. O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs Of his own just remove: the people muddied, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers [A noise within. Alack, what noise is this? King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door. What is the matter? Gent. Enter a Gentleman. Save yourself, my lord: The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; 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, Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! King. The doors are broke. [Noise within. Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following. Laer. Where is this king?-Sirs, stand you all without. Danes. No, let's come in. Laer. Danes. We will, we will. Laer. I thank you :-keep the door.-O thou vile king, Give me my father! Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. [bastard; Laer. That drop of blood that 's calm proclaims me King. What is the cause, Laertes, Why thou art thus incens'd.—Let him go, Gertrude :— Laer. Where is my father? King. Queen. Dead. But not by him. King. Let him demand his fill. Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: King. Who shall stay you? Laer. My will, not all the world: And for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little. King. Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge Laer. None but his enemies. King. Will you know them, then? Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms; And, like the kind life-rendering pelican, Repast them with my blood. Why, now you speak King. It shall as level to your judgment pierce |