William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Scene IV

Act IV

[The same. A tent]
Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers

Cor.Alack, ’tis he! Why, he was met even nowAs mad as the vex’d sea, singing aloud,Crown’d with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,Darnel, and all the idle weeds that growIn our sustaining corn. A sentry send forth;Search every acre in the high-grown field,And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] What can man’s wisdomIn the restoring his bereaved sense?He that helps him take all my outward worth.Doct.There is means, madam.Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,Are many simples operative, whose powerWill close the eye of anguish.Cor.All blest secrets,All you unpublish’d virtues of the earth,Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediateIn the good man’s distress! Seek, seek for him,Lest his ungovern’d rage dissolve the lifeThat wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger

Mess.News, madam!The British powers are marching hitherward.Cor.’Tis known before; our preparation standsIn expectation of them. O dear father,It is thy business that I go about;Therefore great FranceMy mourning and importune tears hath pitied.No blown ambition doth our arms incite,But love, dear love, and our ag’d father’s right.Soon may I hear and see him!Exeunt.

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