Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Let her come in.-

Queen. 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.

Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of DenQueen. How now, Ophelia !

[mark? Oph "How should I your true love know from

"another one?

1391 (64)

"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's dead and gone, Lady, he's dead and gone; Athis head a grass-green turf, at his heels a stone."

(64) Cockle-hat, &c. Observe the figure of Polonius, Ophelia's father, in the moon, whose death occasioned her lunacy, and whose person will be found to be constantly alluded to by her in the fragments she sings of old songs: this circumstance is hinted by the King's observation presently," Conceit upon her father!" ad your sendi lo que

Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord! Oph. "Larded all with sweet flowers: "Which bewept to the grave did go "With true-love showers."

King. How do you, pretty Lady?

Oph. Well, God yield 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.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: "To-morrow is St. Valentine's day, all in the morn betime, [lentine. "And I a maid at your window, to be your Va"Then up he rose, and don'd his cloaths, and dupt "the chamber door;

[more." "Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed

King. Pretty Ophelia !

[on't.

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end

"By Gis, and by St. Charity,

"Alack and fy for shame!

"Young men will do't, if they come to't,

"Quoth she, before you tumbled me,

"You promis'd me to wed:

"So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
"An thou hadst not come to my bed."

King. How long has 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' 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 [Exit Horatio. This is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude! When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions. First, her father slain;

pray you;

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; (we've done but greenly, In private to inter him ;) poor Ophelia,

Divided from herself, and her fair judgment,
(Without the which we're 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 persons to arraign

In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death! [A noise within.
Queen. Alack! what noise is this?

Enter a Messenger.

King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard What is the matter?

Mes. Save yourself, my Lord.

The ocean, over-peering of his list,

[the door.

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,
The ratifiers and props of every Ward;
They cry,
"Choose we Laertes for our King."
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds;
Laertes shall be King, Laertes King!"

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

Enter LAERTES, with a Party at the Door.

King. The doors are broke.

Laer. Where is this King? Sirs! stand you all without.

All. No, let's come in.

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.

[Exeunt.

[me bastard;

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste and 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 its will. Tell me,

Laertes, Why are you thus incensed? Let him go,

Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father?

ch. King. Dead.

Queen. But not by him.

19. King. Let him demand his fill.

Gertrude,

[with:

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled 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,

That both

Let come, what comes; only I'll be revenged
Most thoroughly for my father.

King. Who shall stay you?