Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices
Pleasant and helpful to him!

Queen.

Ay, amen!

[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some Attendants.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, 40

Are joyfully return'd.

King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.
Pol. Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege,

I hold my duty as I hold my soul,

Both to my God and to my gracious king:
And I do think, or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath used to do, that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

King. O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
Pol. Give first admittance to the ambassadors;

50

My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. [Exit Polonius. He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper. Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main;

His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage.

King. Well, we shall sift him.

Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius.

Welcome, my good friends! Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies, which to him appear'd

60

King.

Pol.

To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack,
But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your highness: whereat grieved,
That so his sickness, age and impotence
Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys,
Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine
Makes vow before his uncle never more

To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee
And his commission to employ those soldiers,
So levied as before, against the Polack:
With an entreaty, herein further shown,

70

[Giving a paper.

That it might please you to give quiet pass
Through your dominions for this enterprise,
On such regards of safety and allowance
As therein are set down.

It likes us well,

And at our more consider'd time we 'll read,

Answer, and think upon this business.

80

Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:

Go to your rest; at night we 'll feast together:

Most welcome home!

[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.

This business is well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit

99

And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief. Your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is 't but to be nothing else but mad?
But let that go.

Queen.

More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity,
And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then: and now remains
That we find out the cause of this effect,
Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
For this effect defective comes by cause:
Thus it remains and the remainder thus.
Perpend.

I have a daughter,-have while she is mine,-
Who in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this: now gather and surmise.

'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia.'-

100

[Reads.

IIO

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified'
is à vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus: [Reads.

In her excellent white bosom, these,' &c.

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.

'Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.

[Reads.

King.

'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I 120
have not art to reckon my groans: but that I
love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this
machine is to him,
HAMLET.'

This in obedience hath my daughter shown me;
And more above, hath his solicitings,

As they fell out by time, by means and place,
All given to mine ear.

But how hath she

Received his love?

Pol.

What do you think of me?,

130

King. As of a man faithful and honourable.

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing,—
As I perceived it, I must tell you that,

Before my daughter told me,-what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,

If I had play'd the desk or table-book,

Or given my heart a winking, mute and dunib,

Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;

What might you think? No, I went round to work,
And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;

140

This must not be': and then I prescripts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
And he repulsed, a short tale to make,

Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,

Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and by this declension

Into the madness wherein now he raves,

And all we mourn for.

King. Do you think this?

Queen.

150

It may be, very like.

Pol. Hath there been such a time, I'ld fain know that, That I have positively said ''tis so,'

King.

When it proved otherwise?

Not that I know.

Pol. [Pointing to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this be otherwise:

King.

If circumstances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.

How may we try it further?

Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours together Here in the lobby.

Queen.

So he does, indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
Be you and I behind an arras then;
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,

King.

But keep a farm and carters.

We will try it.

161

Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes

reading.

Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away:

I'll board him presently.

170

[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.

Enter Hamlet, reading.

O, give me leave: how does my good Lord Hamlet? Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.