Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done, 150 [Exit. SCENE IV. The Frontiers of Denmark. Enter FORTINBRA'S, with an Army. For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march We shall express our duty in his eye, And let him know so. Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? ROSENCRANTZ, Kij Capt. a Capt. They are of Norway, sir. Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? Capt. The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras. Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition, Το pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 170 Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. Capt. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd. Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand ducats, Will not debate the question of this straw: 185 [Exit Captain. Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little before. [Exeunt Ros. and the rest. How all occasions do inform against me, Looking Looking before, and after, gave us not? To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be 190 A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom, And, ever, three parts coward,—I do not know, Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me: To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare, When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, Kiij 200 210 To To hide the slain ?-O, from this time forth, [Exit. SCENE V. Elsineur. A Room in the Palace. Enter the Queen, and HORATIÓ. Queen. I will not speak with her. Hor. She is importunate: indeed, distract; 220 Her mood will needs be pity'd. Queen. What would she have? Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears, There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; them, 230 Indeed would make one think, there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous Dangerous conjectares in ill-breeding minds: Let her come in. [Exit HORATIO. To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,' Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss : It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt. Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA. Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark ? Queen. How now, Ophelia ? Oph. How should I your true love know From another one? 241 By his cockle hat, and staff, And by his sandal shoon. [Singing. Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark. O, ho! He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, Queen. Nay, but Ophelia, Oph. Pray you, mark. White his shroud as the mountain snow, Enter King. Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. |