The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 122

Laer. How now? What noise is that?

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 by 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.

Oph. (sings) They bore him barefac'd on the bier (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) And in 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.

Oph. 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.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

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

Laer. A doc.u.ment 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.

O, you must 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.

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

Laer. Thought and affliction, pa.s.sion, h.e.l.l itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness.

Oph. (sings) And will he not come again?

And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead; Go to thy deathbed; 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.

G.o.d 'a'mercy on his soul!

And of all Christian souls, I pray G.o.d. G.o.d b' wi', you.

Exit.

Laer. Do you see this, O G.o.d?

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 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 n.o.ble 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

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Scene VI.

Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.

Enter Horatio with an Attendant.

Hor. What are they that would speak with me?

Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you.

Hor. Let them come in.

[Exit Attendant.]

I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

Enter Sailors.

Sailor. G.o.d bless you, sir.

Hor. Let him bless thee too.

Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir,- it comes from th' amba.s.sador that was bound for England- if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, 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 chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our s.h.i.+p; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy; but they knew 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 speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell.

'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'

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

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Scene VII.

Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And You must put me in your heart for friend, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he which hath your n.o.ble father slain 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 were stirr'd up.

King. O, for two special reasons, Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,- My virtue or my plague, be it 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 gives to graces; so that my arrows, Too slightly timber'd 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 n.o.ble father lost; A sister driven into desp'rate 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 pastime. You shortly shall hear more.

I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-

Enter a Messenger with letters.

How now? What news?

Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.

King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?

Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.

They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them Of him that brought them.

King. Laertes, you shall hear them.

Leave us.

Exit Messenger.