Laertes
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
Ophelia
You must sing a-down a-down,
An you call him a-down-a.
Sings.
Laertes
This nothing’s more than matter.
Ophelia
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
Laertes
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Ophelia
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
Sings.
Laertes
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour and to prettiness.