经典话剧剧本《Hamlet哈姆雷特ACT4》英文完整版(9)

　　OPHELIA

　　[Sings]

　　Larded with sweet flowers

　　Which bewept to the grave did go

　　With true-love showers.

　　KING CLAUDIUS

　　How do you, pretty lady?

　　OPHELIA

　　Well, God 'ild 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 CLAUDIUS

　　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

　　To-morrow 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 CLAUDIUS

　　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 promised me to wed.

　　So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,

　　An thou hadst not come to my bed.

　　KING CLAUDIUS

　　How long hath she been thus?

　　OPHELIA

　　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.

　　Exit

　　KING CLAUDIUS

　　Follow her close; give her good watch,　　I pray you.

　　Exit HORATIO

　　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. First, her father slain:

　　Next, your son gone; and he most violent author

　　Of his own just remove: the people muddied,

　　Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,

　　For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,

　　In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia

　　Divided from herself and her fair judgment,

　　Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:

　　Last, and as much containing as all these,

　　Her brother is in secret come from France;

　　Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,

　　And wants not buzzers to infect his ear

　　With pestilent speeches of his father's death;

　　Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,

　　Will nothing stick our person to arraign