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.
[Reads.] To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia,
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is a vile
phrase; but you shall hear :—Thus :-
(Reads.] In her ercellent white bosom, these, &c.-

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
Pol. Good madam, stay a while; I will be faith-

ful.-
[Reads.] Doubt thou, the stars are fire;

Doubt, that the sun doth move :
Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt, I love. O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers ; I have not art to reckon my groans : but, that I love thee best, 0 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.

King. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?
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 perceiv'd 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 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 sphere;
This must not be : and then I precepts 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, repelled, (a short tale to make,
Fell into a sadness;
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, 'tis this?
Queen. It may be, very likely.
Pol. Hath there been such a time, (I'd fain know

that,)
That I have positively said, 'Tis so,
When it prov'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know.
Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise.

[Pointing to his head and shoulder.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre,

King. How may we try it further?
Pol. You know, sometimes he walks for hours to-

gether, Here in the lobby.

Queen. So he does, indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him; Mark the encounter: if he love her not,

And be not from his reason fallen thereon,

Let me be no assistant for a state,

But keep a farm and carters.

King. We will try it.

Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Pol. Away, I do beseech you both away; I'll board him presently. [Exeunt QUEEN and KING. Enter HAMLET, reading.

How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Excellent well.

Pol. Do you know me, my

lord?

Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
Pol. Not I, my
lord.
Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.
Pol. Honest, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord.

is

sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in't.

Will

you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave.

Pol. Indeed, that's out o' the air.-How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be deliver'd of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter. My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except my life.

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.

Ham. These tedious old fools!

do

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern.

Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet: there he is. Ros. Heaven save you, sir! [Exit POLONIUS. Guil. My honour'd lord! Ros. My most dear lord!— Ham. My excellent good friends! Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz!

How dost thou, Good lads, how

ye both? What news?

Řos. None, my lord; but that the world's grown honest.

Ham. Then is dooms-day near: But your news is not true. In the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore ?

Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you.-Were you not sent for? Is it your

own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come; nay, speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know, the good King and Queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord? Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our everpreserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no?

Ros. What say you?

[To GUILDENStern. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you. If you love me, hold not off.

Guil. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather. I have of late, (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercise; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a steril promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air,-look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,-why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me,-nor woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.