LAERTES. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. POLONIUS. The time invites you; go, your servants tend. LAERTES. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you. OPHELIA. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Farewell. LAERTES. POLONIUS. (Exit.) What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you ? OPHELIA. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. POLONIUS. Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you, and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and boun teous: If it be so- -as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution-I must tell you, OPHELIA. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders POLONIUS. Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, I do not know, my lord, what I should think. POLONIUS. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby, That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or you'll tender me a fool. OPHELIA. My lord, he hath importuned me with love POLONIUS. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. OPHELIA. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. POLONIUS. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows. This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, OPHELIA. I shall obey, my lord. (Exeunt.) [The action of this scene passes on the same platform that was shown in the first scene of this act. HAMLET and HORATIO appear from the first entrance on the right and approach MARCELLUS, who is on guard. HORATIO stops at the left of the platform, and looks out over the battlements.] Indeed? I heard it not: it then draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. (A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off within.) What doth this mean, my lord? HAMLET. The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. HORATIO. Is it a custom ? Ay, marry, is't: HAMLET. But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honoured in the breach than the observance. Enter GHOST. HORATIO. Look, my lord, it comes! HAMLET. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shape With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? (GHOST beckons HAMLET.) HORATIO. It beckons you to go away with it, MARCELLUS. Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: HORATIO. No, by no means. HAMLET. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Do not, my lord. HORATIO. HAMLET. Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee; It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. HORATIO. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff, And there assume some other horrible form, And draw you into madness? |