« ZurückWeiter »
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
And his sandal shoon.
At his heels a stone.
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,
Pray you, mark.
Which bewept to the grave did not go,
With true - love showers.
God ’ild you! They say, the owl was 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's have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: 1
Good morrow, 't is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime ,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes ,
And dupp'd the chamber door ;
Never departed more.
King. How long hath she been thus?
176 Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they would 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, 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 muddied, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly, 177 In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia, 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, Feeds on his 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 beggar'd, Will nothing stick our persons to arraign In ear and ear. 0, 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 Gentleman.
Save yourself, my lord;
Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
[Noise within. | 179
Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following.,
I pray you, give me leave.
[They retire without the Door.
Calmly, good Laertes.
What is the cause, Laertes,
Gertrude. 1 180 Speak, man.
Laer. Where is my father?
But not by him.
Let him go,
King. Let him demand his fill.
Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with.
Who shall stay you?
Laer. None but his enemies.
Will you know them, then?
Why, now you speak
Danes. [Within.] Let her come in.
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier ;
hey nonny: And in his grave raind many a tear ; Fare well, my dove! | 183 Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.
Oph. You must sing, Down a-down, an you call him a-down-a. 0, 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 document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines: there 's rue for you; and here is some for me: we may call it, herb of grace o’Sundays:
you may wear your rue with a differThere's a daisy: I would give you some violets; but they withered all when my father died. They say, he made a good end, For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,
[Sings. 184 Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour, and to prettiness. Oph. And will he not come again?
[Sings. And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead ,
Gone to his death - bed,
He is gone, he is gone ,
And we cast away moan :
God ha' mercy on his soul!
God be wi' you!
[Exit OPHELIA. | 185 Laer. Do you see this, O God?
King. Laertes, I must common with your grief,