_Oph._ Pray, you, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
_To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day_, _All in the morning betime_, _And I, a maid at your window_, _To be your Valentine:_
_Oph._ Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
_Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes_, _And dupp'd[15] the chamber door_; _Let in the maid, that out a maid_ _Never departed more._
_King._ (L.) How long hath she been thus?
_Oph._ (R.) I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i'the cold ground. My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night.
_King._ Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O, Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions!
_Mar._ Save yourself, my lord: The young Laertes, in a riotous head,[16] O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; They cry, _Choose we: Laertes shall be king!_ Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, _Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!_
_Enter_ LAERTES, _armed_; Danes _following_ (R. _centre._)
_Laer._ Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without.
_Laer._ O, thou vile king, Give me my father.
_Laer._ (R.) That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother.[17]
_King._ (L.) What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person: There's such divinity doth hedge a king,[18] That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Let him go, Gertrude.
_Laer._ How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence,[19] Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Most throughly for my father.
_Laer._ My will, not all the world's:[20] And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little.
_King._ Good Laertes, That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensible in grief[21] for it, It shall as level to your judgment 'pear As day does to your eye.