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is bent

       For England.

       Ham.

       For England!

       King.

       Ay, Hamlet.

       Ham.

       Good.

       King.

       So is it, if thou knew’st our purposes.

       Ham.

       I see a cherub that sees them.—But, come; for England!—

       Farewell, dear mother.

       King.

       Thy loving father, Hamlet.

       Ham. My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother.—Come, for England!

       [Exit.]

       King.

       Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;

       Delay it not; I’ll have him hence tonight:

       Away! for everything is seal’d and done

       That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.

       [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

       And, England, if my love thou hold’st at aught,—

       As my great power thereof may give thee sense,

       Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red

       After the Danish sword, and thy free awe

       Pays homage to us,—thou mayst 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 like the hectic in my blood he rages,

       And thou must cure me: till I know ‘tis done,

       Howe’er my haps, my joys were ne’er begun.

       [Exit.]

       SCENE IV. A plain in Denmark.

       [Enter Fortinbras, and Forces marching.]

       For.

       Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king:

       Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras

       Craves the conveyance of a promis’d march

       Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.

       If that his majesty would aught with us,

       We shall express our duty in his eye;

       And let him know so.

       Capt.

       I will do’t, my lord.

       For.

       Go softly on.

       [Exeunt all For. and Forces.]

       [Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, &c.]

       Ham.

       Good sir, whose powers are these?

       Capt.

       They are of Norway, sir.

       Ham.

       How purpos’d, sir, I pray you?

       Capt.

       Against some part of Poland.

       Ham.

       Who commands them, sir?

       Capt.

       The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.

       Ham.

       Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,

       Or for some frontier?

       Capt.

       Truly to speak, and with no addition,

       We go to gain a little patch of ground

       That hath in it no profit but the name.

       To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;

       Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole

       A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

       Ham.

       Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

       Capt.

       Yes, it is already garrison’d.

       Ham.

       Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats

       Will not debate the question of this straw:

       This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,

       That inward breaks, and shows no cause without

       Why the man dies.—I humbly thank you, sir.

       Capt.

       God b’ wi’ you, sir.

       [Exit.]

       Ros.

       Will’t please you go, my lord?

       Ham.

       I’ll be with you straight. Go a little before.

       [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]

       How all occasions do inform against me

       And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,

       If his chief good and market of his time

       Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.

       Sure he that made us with such large discourse,

       Looking before and after, gave us not

       That capability and godlike reason

       To fust in us unus’d. Now, whether it be

       Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple

       Of thinking too precisely on the event,—

       A thought which, quarter’d, hath but one part wisdom

       And ever three parts coward,—I do not know

       Why yet I live to say ‘This thing’s to do;’

       Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means

       To do’t. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:

       Witness this army, of such mass and charge,

       Led by a delicate and tender prince;

       Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff’d,

       Makes mouths at the invisible event;

       Exposing what is mortal and unsure

       To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,

       Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great

       Is not to stir without great argument,

       But greatly to find quarrel in a straw

       When honour’s at the stake. How stand I, then,

       That have a father kill’d, a mother stain’d,

       Excitements of my reason and my blood,

       And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see

       The imminent death of twenty thousand men

       That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,

       Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot

       Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,

       Which is not tomb enough and continent

       To hide the slain?—O, from this time forth,

       My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

       [Exit.]

       SCENE V. Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

       [Enter Queen and Horatio.]

       Queen.

       I will not speak with her.

       Gent.

      

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