Oph.
There‘s fennel for you, and columbines. There‘s rue for you. And here‘s some for me. We may call it herb of grace a Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference. There‘s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say a made a good end.
[sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. - P359
Ham.
Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee.
I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu.
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time as this fell sergeant, Death,
Is strict in his arrest-O, I could tell you-
But let it be. Horatio, I am dead,
Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied. - P414