Oph.
5 noteLarded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go6 note,
With true-love showers.
King.
How do you, pretty lady?
Oph.
Well, God 'ield you! They say, 7 note
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, let us have no words of this; but
when they ask you, what it means, say you this:
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day8 note
,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine:
Then up he rose, and don'd9 note his cloaths,
1 note
And dupt the chamber door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
-- 347 --
King.
Pretty Ophelia!
Oph.
Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end
on't.
2 note
By Gis, and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't;
By cock3 note, they are to blame.
-- 348 --
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed: He answers4 note.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.
King.
How long hath she been thus?
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! Good night, ladies; good night, 9Q1199
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 muddy'd,
Thick and unwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; and we have done 5 notebut greenly,
6 note
In hugger-mugger to inter him: Poor Ophelia
-- 349 --
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
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:
7 note
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
8 note
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
9 note
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death!
[A noise within.
-- 350 --
Queen.
Alack! what noise is this1 note?
Enter a Gentleman.
King.
Attend. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door:—
What is the matter?
Gen.
Save yourself, my lord;
2 noteThe ocean, over-peering of his list, 9Q1200
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'er-bears your officers! The rabble call him, lord;
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
3 note
The ratifiers and props of every ward,
-- 351 --
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!
4 noteO, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
King.
The doors are broke.
[Noise within.
Enter Laertes, with others.
Laer.
Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
All.
No, let's come in.
Laer.
I pray you, give me leave.
-- 352 --
All.
We will, we will.
[Exeunt.
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 bastard;
Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste 5 note
unsmirched 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 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?
-- 353 --
Laer.
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, sweep-stake, you will draw both 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-rend'ring pelican6 note
,
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 7 note
to your judgment 'pear,
As day does to your eye.
Crowd within.
Let her come in.
Laer.
How now! what noise is that?
-- 354 --
Enter Ophelia, fantastically dress'd with straws and flowers.
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 pay'd 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?
8 note
Nature is fine in love: and, where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
Oph.
They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier9 note
;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny:
And on his grave rain'd many a tear;—
Fare you well, my dove!
Laer.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
-- 355 --
Oph.
You must sing, Down a-down1 note
, an you call him a-down-a.
2 note
O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward,
that stole his master's daughter.
Laer.
This nothing's more than matter.
Oph.
3 note
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;
pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's
for thoughts.
-- 356 --
Laer.
A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
Oph.
There's fennel for you, and columbines4 note
:
5 note
There's rue for you;—and here's some for me:—
-- 357 --
we may call it, herb of grace o' sundays:—6 note
you
may wear your rue with a difference.—There's a
daisy:—I would give you some violets; but they
wither'd all, when my father died:—They say, he
made a good end,—
7 note
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,—
Laer.
Thought, and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.
-- 358 --
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.
8 note
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan;
God a' mercy on his soul9 note
!
And of all christian souls! I pray God. God be wi'you.
[Exit Oph.
Laer.
Do you see this, O God?
King.
Laertes, I must common 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:
-- 359 --
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,—
1 note
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;
2 note
And, where the offence is, let the great axe fall.
I pray you, go with me.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
