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And convoy is assistant3, do not sleep
But let me hear from you.
OPHELIA Do you doubt that?
LAERTES For Hamlet and the trifling of his favours,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood7,
A violet in the youth of primy8 nature,
Froward9, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The suppliance10 of a minute, no more.
OPHELIA No more but so11?
LAERTES Think it no more,
For nature crescent13 does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but as his temple14 waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal16. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel17 doth besmirch
The virtue of his will18: but you must fear,
His greatness weighed19, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued21 persons do,
Carve22 for himself, for on his choice depends
The sanctity23 and health of the whole state,
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding25 of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his peculiar sect and force28
May give his saying deed, which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal30.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
If with too credent ear you list32 his songs,
