University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Enter Laertes.
[Cristina.]
Ha! Laertes! most welcome! well—and have you? Say, Laertes.

Laer.
O Royal Maid!—

Cristina.
Thy Looks are doubtful—Speak,—
Why art thou silent—Does he live?

Laer.
He does.
But Death 'ere Night must fill a long Account;
The Camp, the Country's in Confusion: War,
And Changes ride upon the Hour that hastes
To intercept my Tongue—I else cou'd tell
Of Virtues hitherto beyond my Ken;
Courage, to which the Lion stoops his Crest,
Yet grafted upon Qualities as soft
As a rock'd Infant's Meekness; such as tempts
Against my Faith, my Country, and Allegiance,
To wish thee Speed, Gustavus.

Cristina.
Then you found him.

Laer.
I did: and warn'd him, but in vain; for Death
To him appear'd more grateful than to find
His Friend's Dishonour.

Cristina.
Give me the Manner—quick—soft, good Laertes!