QUEEN.
Alas, look here, my lord!
OPHELIA.
[Sings.]
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did not go
With true-love showers.
KING.
How do you, pretty lady?
OPHELIA.
Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table!
KING.
Conceit upon her father.
OPHELIA.
Pray you, let’s have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
[Sings.]
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donn’d his clothes,
And dupp’d the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
KING.
Pretty Ophelia!
OPHELIA.
Indeed la, without an oath, I’ll make an end on’t.
[Sings.]
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do’t if they come to’t;
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promis’d me to wed.
So would I ha’ done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.