to the_ KING.)

They say the owl was a baker's daughter.[13] We know
what we are, but know not what we may be.

_King._ Conceit upon her father.[14]

_Oph._ Pray, you, let us have no words of this; but when
they ask you what it means, say you this:

_To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day_,
_All in the morning betime_,
_And I, a maid at your window_,
_To be your Valentine:_

_King._ Pretty Ophelia!

_Oph._ Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

_Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes_,
_And dupp'd[15] the chamber door_;
_Let in the maid, that out a maid_
_Never departed more._

[_Crosses to_ R.H.]

_King._ (L.) How long hath she been thus?

_Oph._ (R.) I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot
choose but weep, to think they should lay him i'the cold ground. My
brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good counsel.
Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good
night, good night.

[_Exit_, R.C.]

_King._ Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.

[_Exit_ HORATIO, _through centre_ R.]

O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death.
O, Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions!

_Enter_ MARCELLUS (R. _centre._)

_King._ What is the matter?

_Mar._ Save yourself, my lord:
The young Laertes, in a riotous head,[16]
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
They cry, _Choose we: Laertes shall be king!_
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
_Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!_

[_Noise within_, R.C.]

_Enter_ LAERTES, _armed_; Danes _following_ (R. _centre._)

_Laer._ Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without.

_Dan._ No, let's come in.

_Laer._ I pray you, give me leave.

_Dan._ We will, we will.

[_They retire without_, R.H.]

_Laer._ O, thou vile king,
Give me my father.

_Queen_

(_Interposing._)

Calmly, good Laertes.

_Laer._ (R.) That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;
Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
Of my true mother.[17]

_King._ (L.) What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
Ther