Laer.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
Oph.
You must sing 'Down a-down, an you call him a-down-a.' O,
how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his
master's daughter.
Laer.
This nothing's more than matter.
Oph.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love,
remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
Laer.
A document in madness,thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Oph.
There's fennel for you, and columbines:there's rue for you;
and here's some for me:we may call it herb of grace o'
Sundays:O, you must wear your rue with a difference.There's a
daisy:I would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when
my father died:they say he made a good end,
[Sings.]
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,
Laer.
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour and to prettiness.
Oph.
[Sings.]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God.God b' wi' ye.