Me yet? Doth recollection show thee naught
Familiar in these eyes, this face, this form?
What, faded quite, my love and me, from out
Thy memory as the summer shower when past
Is quick forgot with one short hour of sun?
Ophelia. Love? I know what that doth signify. Is not love what we poor maids are fool’d with? Thus have they told me, and therefore I’ll not listen to you, for indeed I never saw you before, that I remember, and yet there’s something not so strange lurks within your speech. But go your ways, sweet sir. My Hamlet he is dead, and so I care for none of mankind now. [Sings]
He is dead, perdy.
[Exeunt Constance and Ophelia.
Hamlet. Alas, poor maid, I lov’d thee truly once
And still had lov’d, and so had wedded thee