LAERTES
How now! what noise is that?
Re-enter OPHELIA
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! By heaven,
thy madness shall be paid by weight, Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister,
sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits Should be as moral as an old man's life? Nature
is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves. OPHELIA
[Sings] They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rain'd
many a tear: Fare you well, my dove! LAERTES
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus. OPHELIA
[Sings] You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the
false steward, that stole his master's daughter. LAERTES
This nothing's more than matter. OPHELIA
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts. LAERTES
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted. OPHELIA
There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-
grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some
violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end,
Sings
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. LAERTES
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness. OPHELIA
[Sings] And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-
bed: He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is
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