Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand

ducats

Will not debate the question of this straw;

This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
I humbly thank you, sir.

Why the man dies.
Cap. God be wi' you, sir.

Ros.

[Exit

Will't please you go, my lord?

Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little

before.

[Exeunt all except HAMLET 30

How all occasions do inform against me,

And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time

Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple

Of thinking too precisely on the event, –

A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know

-

Why yet I live to say, "This thing's to do,"

Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,

To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me;

40

Witness this army, of such mass and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puffed,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
50 Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw

When honor's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father killed, a mother stained,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while to my shame I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
60 That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,

Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent

To hide the slain? — Oh, from this time forth,

My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [Exit

SCENE V

Elsinore. A Room in the Castle

Enter QUEEN and HORATIO

Queen. I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract; Her mood will needs be pitied.

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,
That carry but half sense; her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshapèd 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 would be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

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

Queen. Let her come in.

[Exit HORATIO

10

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,

20 It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

30

Re-enter HORATIO with OPHELIA

Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia?

Oph. [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?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

[Sings] He is dead and gone, lady,

O, ho!

He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf,

At his heels a stone.

Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia,

Oph.

Pray you, mark.

[Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow.

Enter KING

Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.

Oph. [Sings]

Larded with sweet flowers;

Which bewept to the grave did go,
With true love showers.

King. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph. Well, God 'ield 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 you, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:

[Sings]

To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,

All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,

To be your Valentine.

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.

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50