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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.
Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me

Cries cuckold to my father ; brands the harlot
Ev’n here, between the chaste and unsmirch'd brow
Of my true mother.

King. What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy Rebellion looks fo giant-like?
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person :
There's such divinity doth hedge a King,
That treason 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!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation ; to this point I stand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come, what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd
Most throughly for my father.

King. Who shall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world;
And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They fhall 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 sweep-itake) you will draw both friend and foc,
Winner and loser ?

Laer. None but his enemies.
King. Will you know them then ?


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Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms,
And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
Repast them with my blood.

King. Why, now you speak
Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am molt sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce,
As day does to your eye. (A noise within. “ Let her

come in.”]
Laer. How now, what noise is that?

Enter Ophelia, fantastically drejt with straws and


O heat, dry up my brains ! tears, seven times falt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heav'n, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May !
Dear maid, kind filter, sweet Ophelia !
O heav'ns, is’t poffible a young maid’s wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love ; and, where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

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Oph. They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier,
And on his Grave reigns many a tear ;


Fare you

well, my


Laer. Hadit thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.

Oph. You must fing, down a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O how the wheel becomes it! it is the false steward that itole his mafter's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there's panfies, that's for thoughts.

Laer. A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.


Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace

oʻSundays: you may wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father dy'd : they say, he made a good end;

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. Laer. Thought, and Ami&ion, paffion, hell itself, She turns to favour, and to prettiness.

you will,

Oph. And will be not come again?

And will be not come again?
No, no, he is dead, go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his pole :
He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,

Gramercy on his soul!
And of all christian souls ! God b'w'ye. [Exit Ophelia,

Laer. Do you see this, you Gods !

King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right: go but a-part,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me;
If by direct or by collateral hand
"They find us touch'd, we will our Kingdom give,
Our Crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us;
And we shall jointly labour with your soul,
To give it due content.

Laer. Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral,
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation,
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heav'n to earth,
That I must call’t in question.


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King. So you shall :
And where th' offence is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you, go with me.

Enter Horatio, with an attendant.
Hor. What are they, that would speak with me?
Serv. Sailors, Sir; they fay, they have letters for you.

Hor. Let them come in.
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. ..-17.9
Enter Sailors.


[ 1 1 2 Sail. God bless you, Sir.

HUBY ! Hor. Let him bless thee too.

Sail. He shall, Sir, an't please him.-There's a tetter for you, Sir: It comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

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Horatió reads the letter.

Oratio, when thou shalt have overlook'd this, give

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letters for him. Ere we were two days ald ar fea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chace. Finding our felves too flow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant they got clear of our ship, so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me, like thieves of mercy; but they know what they did: I am to do a good turn for them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much baste as thou wouldest fly death. I have words to speak in thy ear, will make thee dumb; yet are they much tog light for the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I

Rosincrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England. Of them I have much to tell thee, farewel.

He that thou knowejt thine, Hamlet.



Come, I will make you way for these your letters;
And do't the speedier, that you may direct'me
To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt.

Enter King, and Laertes, King. Now must your conscience my acquittance feal, And you

must put me in your heart for friend; Sith you

have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he, which hath your noble father sain, Pursued my life.

Laer. It well appears. But tell me,
Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful and so capital in nature,
As by your fafety, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were ftirr'd ap

King. Two special reasons,
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unfinew'd,
And yet to me are strong. The Queen, his mother,
Lives almost by his looks ;' and for myself,
(My virtue or my plague, be't either which,)
She's so conjunctive to my life and foul,
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a publick count I might not go,
Is the great love the general gender bear him;
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces. So that my arrows
Too flightly timbred for fo loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Låer. And so have I a nobler father loit,
A fifter driven into desperate terms,
Whofe worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections-But my revenge will come.

King. Break not your sleeps for that; you must not think,
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,

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