HAMLET. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. 

 [Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo.] 

Horatio, Marcellus

Barnardo

 My father’s spirit in arms! All is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes. 

 [Exit.] 

 SCENE III. A room in Polonius’s house.

 Enter Laertes and Ophelia. 

Laertes

Ophelia

 LAERTES. My necessaries are embark’d. Farewell. 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? 

 LAERTES. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, 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; 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, 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; For he himself is subject to his birth: He may not, as unvalu’d persons do, Carve for himself; for on his choice depends The sanctity and health of this whole state; And therefore must his choice be circumscrib’d 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 Than the 

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