Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly douts it. Exit.

Let’s follow, Gertrude: How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I this will give it start again; Therefore let’s follow. Exeunt.