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Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
[Exit. ACT III. SCENE I.
A Room in the Castle.
Enter King, Queen, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, Rosen
CRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.
King. And can you by no drift of conference
Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak.
Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded;
Did he receive you well ?
Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
Did you assay
him To any pastime?
Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it: They are about the court; And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him.
'Tis most true:
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. King.
Sweet Gertrude, leave us too. For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither; That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia 57: Her father, and myself (lawful espials,) Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge; And gather by him, as he is behav'd, If't be the affliction of his love, or no, That thus he suffers for. Queen.
I shall obey you: And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish, That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness; so shall I hope, your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honours. Oph.
Madam, I wish it may.
[Exit Queen. Pol. Ophelia, walk you here:-Gracious, so please We will bestow ourselves :-Read on this book ;
[To Ophelia. That show of such an exercise may colour Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this, 'Tis too much prov'd,—that, with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do sugar o'er The devil himself. King.
0, 'tis too true! how smart
[Aside. Pol. I hear him coming ; let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and Polonius.
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And, by opposing, end them?-To die,- to sleep, No more ;—and, by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ;-to sleep;To sleep! perchance to dream;-ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil 58, Must give us pause : There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
lord, How does your honour for this many a day?
Hom. I humbly thank you; well.
Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
No, not I;