Hie monologue — The Spanish Tragedy

Aye, now I know thee, now thou namest thy son; Thou art the lively image of my grief: Within thy face my sorrows I may see; The eyes are dimm'd with tears, thy cheeks are wan, Thy forehead troubled, and thy mutt'ring lips Murmur sad words abruptly broken off By force of windy sighs thy spirit breathes; And all this sorrow riseth for thy son, And self-same sorrow feel I for my son. Come in, old man; thou shalt to Isabell. Lean on my arm; I thee, thou me, shalt stay; And thou and I and she will sing a song, Three parts in one, but all of discords fram'd,-- Talk not of cords!--but let us now be gone,-- For with a cord Horatio was slain.