King. 'Tis deepely sworne:
Sweet, leaue me heere a while,
My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile
The tedious day with sleepe.
Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine, [Sidenote: Sleepes[7] And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine, Exit [Sidenote: Exeunt.]
Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?
Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes, [Sidenote: doth protest]
Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word.
[Footnote A: Here in the Quarto:—
To desperation turne my trust and hope,[8]
And Anchors[9] cheere in prison be my scope]
[Footnote 1: All that is wanted to make a real enemy of an unreal friend is the seasoning of a requested favour.]
[Footnote 2: 'Our thoughts are ours, but what will come of them we cannot tell.']
[Footnote 3: 'May Day and Night lock from me sport and repose.']