Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting. Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty. Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell. [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? Laer. My dread lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, + Way, path. And bow them to your gracious leave and par don. King. Have you your father's leave? What says Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my slow By laboursome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:] King, Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, you? Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour. off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die," Passing through nature to eternity. Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. Queen. Why seems it so particular with thee? ། If it be, Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, Nature, a little more than a kinsman, and less than 6 Lowering eyes. a natural one. eye, No, nor the fruitful river in the To give these mourning duties to your father: To do obsequious sorrow: But to perséver Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: Than that which dearest father bears his son, It is most retrogade? to our desire: Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. [Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. POLONIUS, Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve1 itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His cannon 2 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden nature, 3 Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem 5 the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! 7 Contrary. 2 Law. 8 Draught. › Entirely. 9 Report. J Dissolve. 4 Apollo. 5 Suffer. Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,Let me not think on't;- Frailty, thy name is woman! A little month; or ere those shoes were old, With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears; - why she, even she, O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer,—married with my uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father, But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue! Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Ham. Horatio, I am glad to see you well : - or I do forget myself. Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus? Mar. My good lord, Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so: Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, |