How now, what noise is that?

Laertes
How now, what noise is that?
Enter Ophelia.
O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight
Till our scale turn the beam! O rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heavens, is ‘t possible a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?

O heavens, is ‘t possible a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?

Nature is fine in love, and, where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

Ophelia sings
They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.

Fare you well, my dove.
Laertes
Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
Ophelia
You must sing “A-down a-down”—and you
“Call him a-down-a.” O, how the wheel becomes
it! It is the false steward that stole his master's daughter.
Laertes
This nothing's more than matter.
Ophelia
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies,
that's for thoughts.
Laertes
A document in madness: thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Ophelia
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. You must wear
your rue with a difference. There's a daisy. I would
give you some violets, but they withered all when
my father died. They say he made a good end. Sings

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

Laertes
Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself
She turns to favor and to prettiness.

Ophelia sings
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead.
Go to thy deathbed.
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 ‘a mercy on his soul.

And of all Christians' souls, I pray God. God be wi' you.
She exits.
Laertes
Do you see this, O God?