Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; Delay it not; I’ll have him hence to-night: Away! for every thing is seal’d and done That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste. Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern . And, England, if my love thou hold’st at aught⁠— As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us⁠—thou mayst not coldly set Our sovereign process; which imports at full, By letters congruing to that effect, The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: till I know ’tis done, Howe’er my haps, my joys were ne’er begun. Exit.