[Sidenote: 'Each]
So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt, [Sidenote: 'So]
It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt.[6] [Sidenote: 'It]

_Enter Ophelia distracted_.[7]

_Ophe_. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of
Denmark.

_Qu_. How now _Ophelia_? [Sidenote: _shee sings_.]

_Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one?
By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone._

_Qu_. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song?

_Ophe_. Say you? Nay pray you marke.
_He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,
At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone._
[Sidenote: O ho.]

_Enter King_.

_Qu_. Nay but _Ophelia_.

_Ophe_. Pray you marke.
_White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow._ [Sidenote: _Enter King_.]

_Qu_. Alas looke heere my Lord,

[Sidenote: 246] _Ophe. Larded[8] with sweet flowers_:
[Sidenote: Larded all with]
_Which bewept to the graue did not go_, [Sidenote: ground | _Song_.]
_With true-loue showres_,

[Footnote 1: 'present them,'--her words, that is--giving significance or
interpretation to them.]

[Footnote 2: If this _would_, and not the _might_ of the _Quarto_, be
the correct reading, it means that Ophelia would have something thought
so and so.]

[Footnote 3: --changing her mind on Horatio's representation. At first
she would not speak with her.]

[Footnote 4: 'minds that breed evil.']

[Footnote 5: --as a quotation.]

[Footnote 6: Instance, the history of Macbeth.]

[Footnote 7: _1st Q. Enter Ofelia playing on a Lute, and her haire downe
singing._

Hamlet's apparent madness would seem to pass into real madness in
Ophelia. King Lear's growing perturbation becomes insanity the moment he
sees the pretended madman Edgar.

The forms of Ophelia's madness show it was not her father's death that
drove her mad, but his death by the hand of Hamlet, which, with Hamlet's
banishment, destroyed all the hope the queen had been fostering in her
of marrying him some day.]

[Footnote 8: This expression is, as Dr. Johnson says, taken from
cookery; but it is so used elsewhere by Shakspere that we cannot regard
it here as a scintillation of Ophelia's insanity.]

[Page 198]

_King_. How do ye, pretty Lady? [Sidenote: you]

_Ophe_. Well, God dil'd you.[1] They say the