Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew[1672]
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.[1672] 15
Queen. Let her come in. [Exit Gentleman.[1672][1673][1674]
[Aside] To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,[1674][1675][1676]
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:[1676]
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,[1676]
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.[1676][1677] 20
Re-enter Gentleman, with Ophelia.
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia![1678]
Oph. [Sings] How should I your true love know[1679][1680]
From another one?[1680]
By his cockle hat and staff[1680] 25
And his sandal shoon.[1680][1681]
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.[1682]
[Sings] He is dead and gone, lady,[1683][1684][1685]
He is dead and gone;[1684][1685] 30
At his head a grass-green turf,[1685][1686]
At his heels a stone.[1685]
Oh, oh![1687]
Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia,—
Oph. Pray you, mark.
[Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow,—