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. Receiv'd his love? But how hath she What do you think of me? King. As of a man faithful and honourable. think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing, What might you think? no, I went rounds to work, Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness; And all we mourn for. 5 Roundly, without reserve. N2 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 four hours to gether, 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 fallen thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm, and carters. King. We will try it. Enter HAMLET, reading. Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away; I'll board him presently:-O, give me leave. [Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. • Tapestry. 7 Accost. How does my good lord Hamlet? Pol. Do you know me, my lord? Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion, Have you a daughter? Pol. I have, my lord. 9 Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive, friend, look to't. Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.) Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone : and, truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. --What do you read, my lord? Ham. Words, words, words! Pol. What is the matter, my lord? Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward. • Understanding. 9 Be pregnant. Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave? Pol. Indeed, that is 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 delivered 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. Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is. Ros. God save you, sir! [TO POLONIUS. [Erit POLONIUS. Guil. My honour'd lord! Ros. My most dear lord! Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? Ready, apt. 2 Soundness of mind. Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? Ros. Neither, my lord. Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours ? Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What news? Ros. None, my lord; but that the world is grown honest. Ham. Then is dooms-day near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither ? Guil. Prison, my lord! Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst. Ros. We think not so, my lord. Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison. Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams. Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for |