Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition, To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; 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: Ros. [Exit Captain. Will't please you go, my lord? Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little before. [Exeunt Ros. and Guild. How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more. That capability and godlike reason 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, And, ever, three parts coward,-I do not know Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means, Led by a delicate and tender prince; Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, Which is not tomb enough, and continent, 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? 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 96. Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds: Let her come in. [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? Queen. How now, Ophelia ? Oph. 97 How should I your true love know From another one? 99 By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. [Singing. Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, [Sings. King. How do you, pretty lady? Oph. Well, God'ield you! They say, the owl was a baker's daughter 99. 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 you, what it means, say you this: they ask Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes, And dupp'd the chamber door 100 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: 101 By Gis, and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fye 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: [He answers.] So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. |