All
Gentlemen—
Horatio
Good my lord, be quiet.
The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.
Hamlet
Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
Queen
O my son, what theme?
Hamlet
I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
King
O, he is mad, Laertes.
Queen
For love of God, forbear him.
Hamlet
’Swounds, show me what thou’lt do: