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 profoundeft pit!
I dare damnation; to this point I ftand,
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 fhall 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, is't writ in your revenge,
(That sweep-stake) you will draw hoth friend and foe,
Winner and loser ?

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-rendring 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 most 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?

S CE N E VII. Enter Ophelia, fantastically dress’d with früws and flowers. Oh heat, dry up my brains ! tears, seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!

Ву

L E T.
By heav'n, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May !
Dear maid, kind Gfter, sweet Ophelia !
.O hew'ns, is't possible a young maid's wits

Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
* Nature is fallin in love; and where 'tis fall'n,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
Oph. They bore him bare-fac’d on the bier,

And on his Grave remains many a tear ;

Fare you well, my dove!
Laer. Had's 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 weal becomes it! it is the false steward that stole his master's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance ; pray, love, remember; and there's pancies, 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 o' Sundays: 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 affli&ion, paffion, hell itself, She turns to favour, and to prettiness. * Nature is fine in love ;, and where 'tis fine,

It fends some precious instance of itself

After the thing it loves.] This is unquestionable corrupt. I fuppose Shakespear wrote, Nature is fall’n in love, and where 'tis fall'n. Warb.

Oph.

Oph. And will he not come again?

And will he 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 foul ! 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 you will,
And they shall hear and judge'twixt you and me ;
If by dired 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 fatisfaction.

in fatisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labour with
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 oftentation,
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heav'n to earth,
That I must call't in question.

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

(Exeunt.
S CE N E VIII.
Enter Horatio, with an attendant.
HAT are they, that would speak with me?
Ser. , ,
letters for
you

Hor.

your soul,

Hor. W ser. Sailors, Sir; they say, they have

Hor. „Let them come in.
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.

Enter Sailors,
Sail. God bless

you,

Sir.
Hor. Let him bless thee too.

Sail. He shall. Sir, an't please him. --There's a letter 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.

Horatio reads the letter
ORATIO, when thou shalt have overlook'd this,

give these fellows some means to the King: they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chafe. Finding ourselves too sow of fail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them : on the instant they got elear 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 lellers I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much haste as thou wouldest fly death. I have words to speak in thy ear, will make thee. dumb; get are they much too light for the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I

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

He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet,
Come, I will make you way for these your letters ;
And do't the speedier, that you may dirca me
To him from whom you brought them. [Excunt.

am.

.

King. N

S CE N E IX.

Enter King and Laertes. OW mult your conscience my acquittance feal,

And

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 flain,
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 safety, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly where stirr'd up?

King. Two special reasons,
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unfinewid,
And yet to me are firong. "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 soul,
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a public 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 so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father loft, A fifter driven into desperate terms, Whose 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, And think it paftime. You shall soon hear more. I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, And that, I hope, will teach you to imagineHow now? what news!

Enter