LITMIR.BIZ

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shall receive such thanks

       As fits a king’s remembrance.

       Ros.

       Both your majesties

       Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,

       Put your dread pleasures more into command

       Than to entreaty.

       Guil.

       We both obey,

       And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,

       To lay our service freely at your feet,

       To be commanded.

       King.

       Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

       Queen.

       Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:

       And I beseech you instantly to visit

       My too-much-changed son.—Go, some of you,

       And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

       Guil.

       Heavens make our presence and our practices

       Pleasant and helpful to him!

       Queen.

       Ay, amen!

       [Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some Attendants].

       [Enter Polonius.]

       Pol.

       Th’ ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,

       Are joyfully return’d.

       King.

       Thou still hast been the father of good news.

       Pol.

       Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,

       I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,

       Both to my God and to my gracious king:

       And I do think,—or else this brain of mine

       Hunts not the trail of policy so sure

       As it hath us’d to do,—that I have found

       The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy.

       King.

       O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.

       Pol.

       Give first admittance to the ambassadors;

       My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

       King.

       Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

       [Exit Polonius.]

       He tells me, my sweet queen, he hath found

       The head and source of all your son’s distemper.

       Queen.

       I doubt it is no other but the main,—

       His father’s death and our o’erhasty marriage.

       King.

       Well, we shall sift him.

       [Enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius.]

       Welcome, my good friends!

       Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?

       Volt.

       Most fair return of greetings and desires.

       Upon our first, he sent out to suppress

       His nephew’s levies; which to him appear’d

       To be a preparation ‘gainst the Polack;

       But, better look’d into, he truly found

       It was against your highness; whereat griev’d,—

       That so his sickness, age, and impotence

       Was falsely borne in hand,—sends out arrests

       On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;

       Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,

       Makes vow before his uncle never more

       To give th’ assay of arms against your majesty.

       Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,

       Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee;

       And his commission to employ those soldiers,

       So levied as before, against the Polack:

       With an entreaty, herein further shown,

       [Gives a paper.]

       That it might please you to give quiet pass

       Through your dominions for this enterprise,

       On such regards of safety and allowance

       As therein are set down.

       King.

       It likes us well;

       And at our more consider’d time we’ll read,

       Answer, and think upon this business.

       Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:

       Go to your rest; at night we’ll feast together:

       Most welcome home!

       [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.]

       Pol.

       This business is well ended.—

       My liege, and madam,—to expostulate

       What majesty should be, what duty is,

       Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.

       Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.

       Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,

       And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,

       I will be brief:—your noble son is mad:

       Mad call I it; for to define true madness,

       What is’t but to be nothing else but mad?

       But let that go.

       Queen.

       More matter, with less art.

       Pol.

       Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

       That he is mad, ‘tis true: ‘tis true ‘tis pity;

       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 whilst 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 excellent white bosom, these, &c.’

       Queen.

       Came this from Hamlet to her?

       Pol.

       Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.

       [Reads.]

       ‘Doubt thou the stars are fire;

       Doubt that the sun doth move;

       Doubt

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