Page 331 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

OPHELIA

[sings] And will a not come again?
And will a not come again?
No, no, he is dead,

Go to thy death-bed, [190]
He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, be is gone,

And we cast away moan. [195]
God a mercy on his soul.
And of all Christian souls. God buy you.
Exit.

LAERTES
Do you see this, O God?

KING
Laertes, I must commune with your grief,

Or you deny me right. Go but apart, [200]
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.

If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touch’d, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, [205]
To you in satisfaction; but if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,

And we shall jointly labour with your soul
To give it due content.

LAERTES
Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral − [210]

No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o’er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation −
Cry to be heard, as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call’t in question.