Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.
 Enter QUEEN, HORATIO, and A GENTLEMAN.

Queen	I will not speak with her.

Gentleman									She is importunate,
	Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.

Queen	What would she have?

Gentleman	She speaks much of her father, says she hears
	There's tricks i'th' 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 unshapd 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.

Horatio	'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
	Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

Queen	Let her come in.
												[Exit GENTLEMAN.
	[Aside.] To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
	Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
	So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
	It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

                 Enter OPHELIA, distracted, with a lute.

Ophelia	Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

Queen	How now, Ophelia?

Ophelia	[Sings.]	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?

Ophelia	Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.

	[Sings.]	He is dead and gone, lady,
				He is dead and gone:
			At his head a grass-green turf,
				At his heels a stone.

	O ho!

Queen	Nay, but Ophelia-

Ophelia	Pray you, mark.

	[Sings.]	White his shroud as the mountain snow-

                               Enter KING.

Queen	Alas, look here, my lord.

Ophelia	[Sings.]		Larded all with sweet flowers,
			Which bewept to the grave did not go
				With true-love showers.

King	How do you, pretty lady?

Ophelia	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.

Ophelia	Pray, let's have no words of this, but when they ask you 
	what it means, say you this:

	[Sings.]	Tomorrow 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 donned his clothes,
				And dupped the chamber-door;
			Let in the maid, that out a maid
				Never departed more.

King	Pretty Ophelia!

Ophelia	Indeed la; without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

	[Sings.]	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 promised me to wed.'
	He answers,
			'So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
				An thou hadst not come to my bed.'

King	How long hath she been thus?

Ophelia	I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot 
	choose but weep to think they would lay him i'th' cold 
	ground. My brother shall know of it. And so I thank you for 
	your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies, good 
	night; sweet ladies, good night, good night.
												[Exit.
King	Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
												[Exit HORATIO.

	O, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs
	All from her father's death, and now behold!
	O Gertrude, Gertrude,
	When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
	But in battalions. First, her father slain;
	Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
	Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
	Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
	For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly
	In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
	Divided from herself and her fair judgement,
	Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts;
	Last, and as much containing as all these,
	Her brother is in secret come from France,
	Feeds on this wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
	And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
	With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
	Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
	Will nothing stick our person to arraign
	In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
	Like to a murd'ring-piece, in many places
	Gives me superfluous death.
												[A noise within.
Queen									Alack, what noise is this?

King	Attend! Where is my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

                            Enter A MESSENGER.

	What is the matter?

Messenger							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,
	And, as the world were now but to begin,
	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,
	'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!'

Queen	How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
												[Noise within.
	O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

King	The doors are broke.

                  Enter LAERTES, armed; DANES following.

Laertes	Where is the king? Sirs, stand you all without.

Danes	No, let's come in.

Laertes	I pray you, give me leave.

Danes	We will, we will.

Laertes	I thank you. Keep the door.
												[Exeunt DANES.
								O thou vile king,
	Give me my father.

Queen	[Holding LAERTES.]	Calmly, good Laertes.

Laertes	That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
	Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
	Even here, between the chaste unsmirchd brow
	Of my true mother.

King						What is the cause, Laertes,
	That thy rebellion looks so 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 his will. Tell me, Laertes,
	Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
	Speak, man.

Laertes			Where is my father?

King								Dead.

Queen										But not by him.

King	Let him demand his fill.

Laertes	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 revenged
	Most throughly for my father.

King	Who shall stay you?

Laertes	My will, not all the world's.
	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
	That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
	Winner and loser?

Laertes						None but his enemies.

King	Will you know them then?

Laertes	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 most sensibly in grief for it,
	It shall as level to your judgement pierce
	As day does to your eye.

Danes	[Within.] Let her come in.

Laertes	How now! What noise is that?

                            Re-enter OPHELIA.

	O, heat dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
	Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
	By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight
	Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May,
	Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
	O heavens, is't possible 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.

Ophelia	[Sings.]	They bore him barefaced on the bier;
				Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
			And in his grave rained many a tear-

	Fare you well, my dove.

Laertes	Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge,
	It could not move thus.

Ophelia	You must sing 'A-down a-down', and you 'Call him a-down-a'. 
	O how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that 
	stole his master's daughter.

Laertes	This nothing's more than matter.

Ophelia	There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, 
	remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Laertes	A document in madness - thoughts and remembrance fitted.

Ophelia	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 a 
	Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. 
	There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they 
	withered all when my father died. They say a' made a good 
	end.

	[Sings.]	For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

Laertes	Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
	She turns to favour and to prettiness.

Ophelia	[Sings.]	And will a' not come again?
			And will a' 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 poll.
				He is gone, he is gone,
				And we cast away moan.
			God ha' mercy on his soul!

	And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God-buy-you.
												[Exit.
Laertes	Do you see this, O God?

King	Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
	Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
	Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
	And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
	If by direct or by collateral hand
	They find us touched, 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.

Laertes								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 heaven to earth,
	That I must call't in question.

King										So you shall;
	And where th' offence is, let the great axe fall.
	I pray you go with me.
												[Exeunt.
