Forty thousand brothers
Could not (with all their
quantity
of love)
Make up my sum.
Shakespeare
King. Pluck thein asunder.
Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet!
All. Gentlemen!
Hor. Good my lord, be quiet.
[The Attendants part them, and they come out of the
grave.]
Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
Queen. O my son, what theme?
Ham. I lov'd Ophelia.
Forty thousand brothers
Could not (with all their
quantity
of love)
Make up my sum.
What wilt thou do for her?
King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Queen. For love of God, forbear him!
Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do.
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
