That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts.

Into my grave?

Her father and myself, lawful espials, / Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, / We may of their encounter frankly judge,

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better.

O'er whom his very madness, like some ore / Among a mineral of metals base, / Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done.

That both the worlds, I give to negligence, / Let come what comes; only I’ll be reveng’d / Most throughly for my father.

He is dead and gone, lady, / He is dead and gone, / At his head a grass green turf, / At his heels a stone.

And so have I a noble father lost, / A sister driven into desperate terms, / Whose worth, if praises may go back again, / Stood challenger on mount of all the age / For her perfections. But my revenge will come.

Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. / Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee, / Nor thine on me.

I am sorry that with better heed and judgement / I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle, / And meant to wreck thee.