Line 176 of Act IV, Scene 5
[Enter OPHELIA.]
LAERTES
O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight
Till our scale turn the beam! O Rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heavens, is ‘t possible a young maid’s wits
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and, where ‘tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
OPHELIA [Sings]
They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove.
LAERTES
Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move [JH ed note:…me more than…] thus.
OPHELIA
You must sing “A-down a-down”—and you
“Call him a-down-a”.—O, how the wheel
Becomes it! It is the false steward
That stole his master’s daughter.
LAERTES This nothing’s more than matter.
OPHELIA
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
Pray you love, remember.
And there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts.
LAERTES
A document in madness: thoughts and remembrance fitted.
OPHELIA
There’s fennel for you, and columbines.
There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me.
We may call it herb of grace o’Sundays.
You must wear your rue with a difference.
There’s a daisy.
I would give you some violets, but they
Withered all when my father died.
They say he mad a good end.
[Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
LAERTES
Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
OPHELIA [Sings]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no he is dead.
Go to thy deathbed.
He will never come again.
His beard as white as snow.
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan.
God ‘a mercy on his soul.
And of all Christians’ souls, I pray
God be wi’ you.
[OPHELIA exits.]
LAERTES
Do you see this, O God?!
KING CLAUDIUS
Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge ‘twixt you and me.
If by direct or collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
To you in satisfaction! But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.
LAERTES Let this be so.
His mans of death, his obscure funeral
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o’er his bones,
No noble rite nor formal ostentation.
Cry to be heard, as ‘twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call it in question.
KING CLAUDIUS So you shall,
And where the offense is, let the great ax fall!
I pray you, go with me.
[All EXEUNT.]
End of Act IV, Scene 5