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Hora. O yes my lord, hee wore his beauer vp.
Ham. What look’t hee frowningly?
Hora. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger.
Ham. Pale or red ?
Hora. Nay very pale.
Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you ?.
Hora. Most constantly.
Ham. I would I had beene there.
Hora. It would haue much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like: staid it long?
Hora. While one with moderate haft might tell a hundreth.
Both. Longer, longer.
Hora. Not when I saw't.
Ham. His beard was griss'ld, no.
Hora. It was as I haue seene it in his life
A sable filuer'd.
Ham. I will watch to night Perchance twill walke againe.
Hora. I warn't it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble fathers person,
Ile speake to it though hell it felfe should gape
And bid mee hold my peace ; I pray you all
If you haue hetherto conceald this fight
Let it be tenable in your silence still,
And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,
Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue,
I will requite your loues, so fare you well :
V pon the platforme twixt a leauen and twelue.
All. Our duety to your homor.
Exeunt. Ham. Your loues as mine to you, farewell. My fathers spirit (in armes) all is not well, I doubt some foule play, would the night were come,
Till then fit still my foule, foule * deedes will rise
Though all the earth ore-whelme them to mens eyes,
Enter Laertes and Ophelia his fifter.
Laer. My necessaries are inbarckt, farewell,
And sister as the winds giue benefit
And conuay, in assistant, do not neepe
But let me heare from you.
Ophe. Doe you doubt that?
Laer. For Hamlet and the trilling of his fauour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy t nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting.
The perfume and suppliance of a minute
Ophe. No more but so.
Laer. Thinke it no more.
For nature cressant does not grow alone,
In thewes and bulkes, but as this temple waxes
The inward seruice of the mind and soule
Growes wide withall, perhaps hee loues you now,
And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch
The vertue of his will, but you must feare,
His greatnes waid, his will is not his owne,
He may not as vnualewed persons doe,
Craue $ for himselfe, for on his choise depends
The safety and health of this whole state,
And therefore must his choise be circumscrib'd,
Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that body,
Whereof he is the head, then if he faies he loues you,
It fits your wisdome so farre to beleeue it
As he in his particuler act and place
May giue his saying deede, which is no further,
Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.
Then way what losse your honor may sustaine,
If with too credent eare you list his fongs
Or loose your heart, or your chast treasure open,
To his vnmasựred importunity.
Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare sister,
And keepe you in the reare of your affection
Out of the shot and danger of desire,
" The chariest maide is prodigall enough
If she vnmaske her beauty to the moone
“ Vertue it felfe scapes not calumnious strokes
“ The canker gaules the infant of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,
And in the morne and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blattments are most iminent,
Be wary then, best safety lies in feare,
Youth to it selte rebels though none else neare.
Ophe. I shall the effect of this good lesson keepe,
As watchmen * to my heart : bat good my brother
Doe not as some vngracious pastors doe,
Show me the steepe + and thorny way to heauen
Whiles a puft, and reckles libertine,
Himselfe the primrose path of dalience treads.
And reakes not his owne reed.
Laer. O feare me not,
I stay too long, but heere my father comes
A double blefling, is a double grace,
Occasion (miles vpon a second leaue.
Pol. Yet here Laertes ? a bord, a bord for shame,
The wind sits in the shoulder of your faile,
And you are staied for, there my blessing with thee,
And these few precepts in thy memory
Looke thou character, give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any vnproportion'd thought his act,
Be thou familier, but by no meanes vulgar,
Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried,
Grapple them vnto thy foule with hoopes of steele,
But do not dull thy palme with entertainement
Of each new hatcht vnfledgd courage ; beware
Of entrance to a quarrell, but beeing in,
Bear't that th' opposer * may beware of thee.
Giue euery man thy eare, but few thy voyce,
Take each man's censure, but reserue thy iudgement.
Costly thy habite as thy purse can buy,
But not exprest in fancy; rich not gaudy,
For the apparrell oft proclaimes the man :
And they in France of the best ranck and station,
Art of a most select and generous, cheefe in that:
Neither a borrower nor a lender boy,
For loue oft looses both it felfe, and friend,
And borrowing dulleth † the g edge of husbandry :
This aboue all, to thine owne selfe be true
And it must follow as the night the day
Thou canst not then bee false to any man :
Farewell, my blesling season this in thee.
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leaue my lord.
Pol. The time inuests you, goe, your seruants tend.
Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well
What I haue said to you.
ophe. Tis in my memory lockt
And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it.
I dulls. Şthe omitted,
Pol. What ist Ophelia hee hath said to you?
Ophe. So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.
Pol. Marry well bethought
Tis told me hee hath very oft of late
Giuen priuate time to you, and you your selfe
Haue of your audience beene most free and bountious,
If it be so, as so tis put on me,
And that in way of caution, I must tell you,
You doe not vnderstand your felfe so cleerely
As it behooues my daughter and your honor,
What is betweene you giue me vp the truth.
Ophe. He hath my lord of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
Pol. Affection, puh, you speake like a greene girle,
Vnfifted in such perrilous circumstance,
Doe you belieue his tenders, as you call them?
Ophe. I doe not know my lord what I should thinke.
Pol. Marry I will teach you, thinke your selfe a babie,
you haue tane these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling : te. der your selfe more dearely
Or (not to crack the winde of the poore phrase)
Wrong it thus *, youle tender me a foole.
Ophe. My lord he hath importun'd me with loue
In honorable fashion.
Pol. I, fashion you may call it, go to, go to.
Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech
My lord, with almost all the holy vowes of heaven.
Pol. I, springes to catch wood-cocks, I doe know
When the blood burnes, how prodigall the foule
Lends the tongue vowes, these blazes daughter
Giuing more light then heate, extinct in both
Euen in their promise, as it is a making
You must not tak't + for fire: from this time
• The parenthesis in the first edition takes in as far as, obus)