Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. King.
King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?
Ham. Ham.
Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th'Sun.
Queen. Queen.
Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,
Queen. And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.
Queen. Do not for euer with thy veyled lids
Queen. Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;
Queen. Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye,
Queen. Passing through Nature, to Eternity.
Ham. I Madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be;
Queen. Why seemes it so particular with thee.
Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes:
Ham. 'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)
Ham. Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,