And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you. | OPHELIA:Do you doubt that?(5) | LAERTES:For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting;
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;(10)
No more. | OPHELIA:No more but so? | LAERTES:Think it no more.
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,(15)
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will; but you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;(20)
For he himself is subject to his birth.
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state,
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed(25)
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place
May give his saying deed; which is no further(30)
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmast'red importunity.(35)
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough
If she unmask her beauty to the moon.(40)
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes.
The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.(45)
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. | OPHELIA:I shall the effect of this good lesson keep
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,(50)
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads
And recks not his own rede. |
LAERTES:The things I need are all on the ship. Goodbye.
And, sister, as the winds will be favorable
And the ships are strong to sail, don’t sleep,
Until you let me hear from you. | OPHELIA:Do you doubt that? | LAERTES:As for Hamlet and the foolishness of his attentions,
Think that it is only a phase and a toy in blood.
A violet in the youth of nature that is in its prime,
Bold, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The burning passion and extreme wanting of a moment,
Nothing more. | OPHELIA:Nothing more than that? | LAERTES:Stop thinking about it,
Because nature, the moon, does not grow alone
In strength and size, but as this temple grows,
The inward duty of the mind and soul