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I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well: ` `
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, ` `
I'll visit you. ` `
` `
All. ` `
Our duty to your honour. ` `
` `
Ham. ` `
Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. ` `
` `
[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.] ` `
` `
My father's spirit in arms! All is not well; ` `
I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! ` `
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, ` `
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. ` `
` `
[Exit.] ` `
` `
` `
` `
Scene III. A room in Polonius's house. ` `
` `
[Enter Laertes and Ophelia.] ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
My necessaries are embark'd: farewell: ` `
And, sister, as the winds give benefit ` `
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, ` `
But let me hear from you. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
Do you doubt that? ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, ` `
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood: ` `
A violet in the youth of primy nature, ` `
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting; ` `
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; ` `
No more. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
No more but so? ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
Think it no more: ` `
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone ` `
In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, ` `
The inward service of the mind and soul ` `
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now; ` `
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch ` `
The virtue of his will: but you must fear, ` `
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; ` `
For he himself is subject to his birth: ` `
He may not, as unvalu'd persons do, ` `
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends ` `
The safety and health of this whole state; ` `
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd ` `
Unto the voice and yielding of that body ` `
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, ` `
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it ` `
As he in his particular act and place ` `
May give his saying deed; which is no further ` `
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. ` `
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain ` `
If with too credent ear you list his songs, ` `
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open ` `
To his unmaster'd importunity. ` `
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; ` `
And keep you in the rear of your affection, ` `
Out of the shot and danger of desire. ` `
The chariest maid is prodigal enough ` `
If she unmask her beauty to the moon: ` `
Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes: ` `
The canker galls the infants of the spring ` `
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd: ` `
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth ` `
Contagious blastments are most imminent. ` `
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: ` `
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep ` `
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, ` `
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, ` `
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; ` `
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, ` `
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads ` `
And recks not his own read. ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
O, fear me not. ` `
I stay too long:--but here my father comes. ` `
` `
[Enter Polonius.] ` `
` `
A double blessing is a double grace; ` `
Occasion smiles upon a second leave. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! ` `
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, ` `
And you are stay'd for. There,--my blessing with thee! ` `
` `
[Laying his hand on Laertes's head.] ` `
` `
And these few precepts in thy memory ` `
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, ` `
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. ` `
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. ` `
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, ` `
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; ` `
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment ` `
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware ` `
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, ` `
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. ` `
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: ` `
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. ` `
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, ` `
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: ` `
For the apparel oft proclaims the man; ` `
And they in France of the best rank and station ` `
Are most select and generous chief in that. ` `
Neither a borrower nor a lender be: ` `
For loan oft loses both itself and friend; ` `
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. ` `
This above all,--to thine own self be true; ` `
And it must follow, as the night the day, ` `
Thou canst not then be false to any man. ` `
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
The time invites you; go, your servants tend. ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well ` `
What I have said to you. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
'Tis in my memory lock'd, ` `
And you yourself shall keep the key of it. ` `
` `
Laer. ` `
Farewell. ` `
` `
[Exit.] ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
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 bounteous; ` `
If it be so,--as so 'tis put on me, ` `
And that in way of caution,--I must tell you ` `
You do not understand yourself so clearly ` `
As it behooves my daughter and your honour. ` `
What is between you? give me up the truth. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders ` `
Of his affection to me. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, ` `
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. ` `
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
I do not know, my lord, what I should think. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
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,--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, ` `
Wronging it thus,--you'll tender me a fool. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
My lord, he hath importun'd me with love ` `
In honourable fashion. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. ` `
` `
Oph. ` `
And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, ` `
With almost all the holy vows of heaven. ` `
` `
Pol. ` `
Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, ` `
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul ` `
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