Act 1 - Scene 3
A room in Polonius' house.
Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA
My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do
But let me hear from you.
Do you doubt that?
For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.
No more but so?
Think it no more;
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
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
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on
his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
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
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.
it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes
not calumnious strokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
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.
I shall the 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;
Whiles, like a puff'd and
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.
O, fear me not.
I stay too long: but here my father comes.
A double blessing is a double grace,
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
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