Kin.
And can you by no drift of conference ^note
Get from him, why he puts on this confusion;
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

Ros.
He does confess, he feels himself distracted;
But from what cause he will by no means speak.

Gui.
Nor do we find him forward to be sounded;
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.

Que.
Did he receive you well?

Ros.
Most like a gentleman.

Gui.
But with much forcing of his disposition.

Ros.
Niggard of question;14Q1443 but, of our demands ^note,
Most free in his reply.

Que.
Did you assay him
To any pastime?

Ros.
Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We o'er-raught ^note 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 ^note the court;
And, as I think, they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol.
'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties,
To hear and see the matter.

Kin.
With all my heart;
And it doth much content me, to hear him so inclin'd.—
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose on to ^note these delights.

Ros.
We shall, my lord. [Exeunt Ros. and Gui.

Kin.
Sweet Gertrude, leave us too: ^note
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here ^note
Affront Ophelia: Her father, and myself ^note,
Will so ^note 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.

Que.
I shall obey you:—
And, for my ^note 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 you ^note,
We will bestow ourselves:—read on this &dagger2; book;
That show ^note of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. ^note—We are oft to blame ^note in this,—

'Tis too much prov'd,—that, with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er ^note
The devil himself.

&clquo;Kin.
&clquo;O, 'tis too ^note true! how smart&crquo;
&clquo;A lash that speech doth give my conscience!&crquo;
&clquo;The harlot's cheek, beauty'd with plast'ring art,&crquo;
&clquo;Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,&crquo;
&clquo;Than is my deed to my most painted word:&crquo;
&clquo;O heavy burthen!&crquo;

Pol.
I hear him coming; let's ^note withdraw, my lord. [Exeunt King, and Polonius. Enter Hamlet.

Ham.
To be, or, not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outragious fortune;
Or to take arms14Q1444 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, ^note—'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 ^note shuffl'd off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's ^note contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the ^note spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he ^note himself ^note might his quietus ^note make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels ^note bear,
To groan and ^note sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death—
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns—puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all: ^note
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sickly'd ^note o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith ^note and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn away ^note,
And lose ^note the name of action. Soft you now;
The fair Ophelia:—Nymph, in thy orisons ^note
Be all my sins remember'd.

Oph.
Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day?

Ham.
I humbly thank you; well.

Oph.
My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to redeliver;
I pray you now, receive † them.

Ham.
No, not I;
I never ^note gave you ought.

Oph.
My honour'd lord, you know ^note right well, you did;
And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd
As made the things ^note more rich: their perfume lost, ^note
Take these again; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, † my lord.

Ham.
Ha, ha! are you honest?

Oph.
My lord?

Ham.

Are you fair?

Oph.

What means your lordship?

Ham.

That, if you be honest, and fair, your honesty should ^note admit no discourse to your beauty.

Oph.

Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty ^note?

Ham.

Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate beauty into it's ^note likeness ^note: this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Oph.

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Ham.

You should not have believ'd me: for virtue cannot so inoculate our ^note old stock, but we shall relish of it: I lov'd you not.

Oph.

I was the more deceived.

Ham.

Get thee to ^note a nunnery; Why would'st thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not born me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in: What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? ^note We are arrant knaves, all; ^note believe none of us: Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?

Oph.

At home, my lord.

Ham.

Let the doors be shut upon him; that he may play the fool no where but ^note in's own house. Farewel.

Oph.

O, help him, you sweet heavens!

Ham.

If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry; Be thou as chast as ice, as pure as snow,

thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery: farewel ^note. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too: Farewel.

Oph.

Heavenly ^note powers, restore him!

Ham.

I have heard of your paintings ^note too ^note well enough; God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves ^note another: you jig ^note, you amble, ^note and you lisp, and nickname ^note God's creatures, and make your ^note wantonness your ignorance: Go to, I'll ^note no more ^note on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are marry'd already, all but one, shall live; ^note the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

Oph.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, ^note eye, tongue, sword;
The expectancy and ^note rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mold of form,
The observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down!
And I ^note, of ladies14Q1445 most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his musick ^note vows,
Now see that ^note noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangl'd, out of tune ^note and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and ^note feature ^note of blown youth,
Blasted with extasy: O, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! Re-enter King, and Polonius.

Kin.
Love! his affections do not that way tend;
Nor what ^note he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
And, I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose,

Will be some danger: Which for to ^note prevent,
I have, in quick determination,
Thus set it down; ^note He shall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute:
Haply, the seas, and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expel
This something settl'd matter in his heart;
Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

Pol.
It shall do well: But yet do I believe,
The origin and commencement of his ^note grief
Sprung from neglected love.—How now, Ophelia?
You need not tell us, what lord Hamlet said;
We heard it all.—My lord, do as you please;
But, if you hold it fit, after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone intreat him
To show his grief; ^note let her be round with him;
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference: If she find him not,
To England send him; or confine him, where
Your wisdom best shall think.

Kin.
It shall be so:
Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd ^note go. [Exeunt.

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