Line 160 of Act IV, Scene 7
LAERTES I will do’t,
And for that purpose I’ll anoint my sword…
I bought an unction of a mountebank
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Wher it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal. I’ll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.
KING CLAUDIUS Let’s further think of this,
Weight what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
‘Twere better not assayed. Therefore, this project
Should have a back or second that might hold
If this did blast in proof.
—Soft, let me see—
We’ll make a solemn wager on your cunnings…
I have it!
When in your motion you are hot and dry
As make your boughts more violent to that end
And that he calls for a drink, I’ll have prepared him
A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venomed stuck,
Our purpose may hold there.
—But stay, what noise?
[Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE.]
QUEEN GERTRUDE
One woe doth tread upon another’s heel,
So fast they follow. Your sister’s drowned, Laertes.
LAERTES Drowned?! O, where??
QUEEN GERTRUDE
There is a willow grows askant the brook
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of Crowflowers, Nettles, Daisies, and Long Purples,
that liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do “Dead Men’s Fingers” call them.
There on the pendant boughs her Coronet Weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke,
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,
And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up,
Which time she chanted snatched of old lauds,
As one incapable of her own distress
Or like a creature native and endued [JH: endowed?]
Unto that element. But long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
LAERTES Alas, then she is drowned!
QUEEN GERTRUDE Drowned, drowned!
LAERTES
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my tears. But yet
It is our trick. Nature her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will. When these are gone,
The woman will be out.
—Adieu, my lord.
I have a speech o’ fire that fain would blaze,
But that this folly drowns it.
[LAERTES exits.]
KING CLAUDIUS Let’s follow, Gertrude.
How much I had to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I this will give it start again.
Therefore, let’s follow.
[ALL exeunt.]
End of Act IV, Scene 7; also end of Act IV.