Pol.
Give him his Mony, and those Notes, Reynoldo.

Rey.
I will, my Lord.

Pol.
You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynoldo.
Before you visit him, make you Inquiry.
Of his Behaviour.

Rey.
My Lord, I did intend it.

Pol.
Marry, well said;
Very well said. Look you, Sir,
Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,

What Company, what Expence, and finding
By this encompassment and drift of Question,
That they do know my Son; come you more near,
Then your particular Demands will touch it,
Take you, as 'twere some distant Knowledge of him,
As thus—I know his Father and his Friends,
And in part him—Do you mark this, Reynoldo?

Rey.
Ay, very well, my Lord.

Pol.
And in part him—but you may say—not well;
But if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
Addicted so and so—and there put on him
What Forgeries you please; marry, none so rank,
As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
But, Sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are Companions noted and most known
To Youth and Liberty.

Rey.
As Gaming, my Lord—

Pol.
Ay, or Drinking, Fencing, Swearing,
Quarrelling, Drabbing—You may go so far.

Rey.
My Lord, that would dishonour him.

Pol.
Faith no, as you may season it in the Charge;
You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to Incontinency,
That's not my meaning; but breath his Faults so quaintly,
That they may seem the Taints of Liberty;
The Flash and out-break of a fiery Mind,
A savageness in unreclaimed Blood
Of general Assault.

Rey.
But, my good Lord.

Pol.
Wherefore should you do this?

Rey.
Ay, my Lord, I would know that.

Pol.
Marry, Sir, here's my drift,
And I believe it is a fetch of Warrant.
You laying these slight sullies on my Son,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working,
Mark you your party in converse; him you would sound,
Having ever seen, in the prenominate Crimes,
The youth you breath of, Guilty, be assur'd
He closes with you in this Consequence;
Good Sir, or so, or Friend, or Gentleman,
According to the Phrase and the Addition,
Of Man and Country.

Rey.
Very good, my Lord.

Pol.
And then, Sir, do's he this?
He do's—what was I about to say?
I was about to say nothing; where did I leave?—

Rey.
At closes in the Consequence:
At Friend, or so, and Gentleman.

Pol.
At closes in the Consequence—Ay marry,
He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,
I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
Or then, or then, with such and such, and as you say,
There was he gaming, there o'ertook in's Rowse,
There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,
I saw him enter such a House of Sale,
Videlicet, a Brothel, or so forth—See you now;
Your bait of Falshood, takes this Carp of Truth;
And thus do we of Wisdom and of Reach,
With Windlaces, and with assays of Byas,
By Indirections find Directions out:
So by my former Lecture and Advice
Shall you my Son; you have me, have you not?

Rey.
My Lord, I have.

Pol.
God b'w' you; fare you well.

Rey.
Good my Lord—

Pol.
Observe his Inclination in your self.

Rey.
I shall, my Lord.

Pol.
And let him ply his Musick.

Rey.
Well, my Lord. [Exit. Enter Ophelia.

Pol.
Farewel.
How now, Ophelia, what's the matter?

Oph.
Alas, my Lord, I have been so affrighted.

Pol.
With what, in the Name of Heav'n?

Oph.
My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,
Lord Hamlet with his Doublet all unbrac'd,
No Hat upon his Head, his Stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his Ancle,
Pale as his Shirt, his Knees knocking each other,
And with a look so piteous in Purport,
As if he had been losed out of Hell,
To speak of Horrors; he comes before me.

Pol.
Mad for thy Love?

Oph.
My Lord, I do not know: but truly I do fear it.

Pol.
What said he?

Oph.
He took me by the wrist.
Then goes he to the length of all his Arm;
And with his other Hand, thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my Face,
As he would draw it. Long staid he so;
At last, a little shaking of my Arm,
And thrice his Head thus waving up and down,
He rais'd a Sigh, so hideous and profound,
That it did seem to shatter all his Bulk,
And end his Being. That done, he lets me go,
And with his Head over his Shoulders turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his Eyes,
For out adoors he went without their help,
And to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol.
Come, go with me, I will go seek the King,
This is the very Extasie of Love,
Whose violent Property foredoes it self,
And leads the Will to desperate Undertakings,
As oft as any Passion under Heaven,
That do's afflict our Natures. I am sorry;
What, have you given him any hard Words of late?

Oph.
No, my good Lord; but as you did command
I did repel his Letters, and deny'd
His Access to me.

Pol.
That hath made him mad.
I am sorry that with better Speed and Judgment
I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle,
And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my Jealousie;
It seems it is as proper to our Age,
To cast beyond our selves in our Opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack Discretion. Come, go we to the King.
This must be known, which being kept close, might move
More Grief to hide, than hate to utter Love. [Exeunt.

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