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  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 2, 1604)
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Quarto 2, 1604)

    Prince of Denmarke.
    O heate, dry vp my braines, teares seauen times salt
    Burne out the sence and vertue of mine eye,
    By heauen thy madnes shall be payd with weight
    2910 Tell our scale turne the beame. O Rose of May,
    Deere mayd, kind si ster, sweet Ophelia,
    O heauens, i st po s sible a young maids wits
    Should be as mortall as a poore mans life.
    They bore him bare-fa ste on the Beere, Song.
    And in his graue rain'd many a teare,
    2920 Fare you well my Doue.
    Laer. Had st thou thy wits, and did' st perswade reuenge
    It could not mooue thus.
    Oph. You mu st sing a downe a downe,
    And you call him a downe a. O how the wheele becomes it,
    It is the false Steward that stole his Mai sters daughter.
    Laer. This nothing's more then matter.
    Oph. There's Rosemary, thats for remembrance, pray you loue re-
    member, and there is Pancies, thats for thoughts.
    2930 Laer. A document in madnes, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
    Ophe. There's Fennill for you, and Colembines, there's Rewe for
    you, & heere's some for me, we may call it herbe of Grace a Sondaies,
    you may weare your Rewe with a difference, there's a Da sie, I would
    2935 giue you some Violets, but they witherd all when my Father dyed,
    they say a made a good end.
    For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy.
    Laer. Thought and afflictions, pa s sion, hell it selfe
    2940 She turnes to fauour and to prettines.
    And wil a not come againe, Song.
    And wil a not come againe,
    No, no, he is dead, goe to thy death bed,
    He neuer will come againe.
    2945 His beard was as white as snow,
    Flaxen was his pole,
    He is gone, he is gone, and we ca st away mone,
    God a mercy on his soule,
    and of all Chri stians soules,
    2950 God buy you.
    Laer. Doe you this ô God.
    King. Laertes, I mu st commune with your griefe,
    Or you deny me right, goe but apart,