An argument that he is pluckt, when hither / He ſends ſo poore a Pinnion of his Wing,

to accommodate prophecy to events

The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List) Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head, Ore-beares your Officers,

I'll ketch you; I'll hang you.