King. Why hang the clouds still on you? Come, have done.
Ham. You're out, my lord; I'm too much in the sun.—
Queen. Come, Hamlet, leave off crying; 'tis in vain,
Since crying will not bring him back again.
Besides, 'tis common: all that live must die—
So blow your nose, my dear, and do not cry.
Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen.If it be,
Why seems there such a mighty fuss with thee?
Ham. Talk not to me of seems—when husbands die,
'Twere well if some folks seem'd the same as I.
But I have that within, you can't take from me—
As for black clothes—that's all my eye and Tommy.
King. Cheer up, my hearty; though you've lost your dad,
Consider that your case is not so bad:
Your father lost a father; and 'tis certain,
Death o'er your great-grandfather drew the curtain.
You've mourn'd enough; 'tis time your grief to smother;
Don't cry: you shall be king some time or other.
Queen. Go not to Wittenburg, my love, I pray you.
Ham. Mamma, I shall in all my best obey you.
King. Well said, my lad! Cheer up, no more foul weather:
We'll meet anon, and all get drunk together.