[Exit, R.H.]
King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
Away! for everything is seal'd and done.
[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and Attendants, R.H.]
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,
Thou may'st not coldly set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.
[Exit KING, L.H.]
Enter QUEEN and HORATIO (R. centre.)
Queen. - - I will not speak with her.
Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract:
'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in.
[Exit HORATIO, R.C.]
Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA (R. centre.)
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia!
Oph. (C.)
[Singing.]
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
Queen. (L.C.) Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Enter the KING (L.H.)
Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia, - -
Oph. Pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
White his shroud as the mountain-snow,
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
Away! for everything is seal'd and done.
[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and Attendants, R.H.]
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,
Thou may'st not coldly set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.
[Exit KING, L.H.]
Enter QUEEN and HORATIO (R. centre.)
Queen. - - I will not speak with her.
Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract:
'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in.
[Exit HORATIO, R.C.]
Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA (R. centre.)
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia!
Oph. (C.)
[Singing.]
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
Queen. (L.C.) Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Enter the KING (L.H.)
Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia, - -
Oph. Pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
White his shroud as the mountain-snow,
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
