And his commiffion to employ thofe foldiers,
So levied as before, againft the Polack:
With an entreaty, herein further fhewn,
That it might pleafe you to give quiet pafs
Through your dominions for this enterprize,
On fuch regards of fafety and allowance,
As therein are fet down.

King. It likes us well;

And at our more confi ter'd time we'll read,
Anfwer, and think upon this bufinefs.

Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour.
Go to your reft; at night we'll feast together.

Moft welcome home!

Pol. This bufinefs is well ended.

My Liege, and Madam, to expoftulate
What Majefty fhould be, what duty is,

[Exe. Ambaf.

Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to wafte night, day, and time.
Therefore, fince brevity's the foul of wit,

And tedioufnefs the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief; your noble fon 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 lefs art.

Pol. Madam, I fwear, I ufe no art at all:
That he is mad, 'tis true; 'tis true, 'tis pity;
And pity 'tis, 'tis true; a foolish figure,-
But farewel 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 caufe;
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 furmise.

[He

[He opens a letter, and reads.]

To the celestial, and my foul's idol, the most beatified (14) Ophelia.That's an ill phrafe, a vile phrafe: beatified is a vile phrafe; but you fhall hear→→→ Thefe to her excellent white bofom, thefe.

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ?

Pol. Good Madam, ftay a while, I will be faithful.

Doubt thou, the ftars are fire,

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

But never doubt, I love.

[Reading.

Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at thefe numbers; I have
not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee beft, ob
moft beft, believe it.
Adieu.

Thine evermore, moft dear Lady, whilst
this Machine is to him, Hamlet,

This in obedience hath my daughter fhewn me:
And, more above, hath his follicitings,

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to mine ear.

King. But how hath fhe receiv'd his love?

(14) To the Celestial, and my Soul's Idol, the most beautified Ophelia.] I have ventured at an Emendation here, against the Authority of all the Copies; but, I hope, upon Examination it will appear probable and reafonable. The Word beautified may carry two distinct Ideas, either as applied to a Woman made up of artificial Beauties, or to one rich in native Charms. As Shakespeare has therefore chose to use it in the latter Acceptation, to exprefs natural Comelinefs; I cannot imagine, that here, he would make Polonius except to the Phrafe, and call it a vile one. But a ftronger Objection ftill, in my Mind, lies against it. As Celestial and Soul's Idol are the introductory Characteristicks of Ophelia, what a dreadful Anticlimax is it to defcend to fuch an Epithet as beautified? On the other hand, beatified, as I have conjectured, raifes the Image: bur Polonius might very well, as a Roman Catholick, call it a vile Phrafe, i. e. favouring of Profana ion; fince the Epithet is peculiarly made an Adjunct to the Virgin Mary's Honour, and therefore ought not to be employed in the Praife of a mere Mortal.

Pol.

Pcl. What do you think of me?

King. As of a man, faithful and honourable.
Pol. I would fain prove fo. 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 Majefty your Queen here, think?
If I had play'd the desk or table-book,

Or giv'n my heart a working, mute and dumb,
Or look'd upon this love with idle fight;

What might you think? no, I went round to work,
And my young mistress thus I did befpeak;
Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy fphere,
This must not be; and then, I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his refort,
Admit no meffengers, receive no tokens :
Which done, fhe took the fruits of

my

And he repulfed, a fhort tale to make,
Fell to a fadness, then into a faft,

advice ;

Thence to a watching, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and, by this declenfion,
Into the madnefs wherein now he raves,

And all we wail for.

King. Do you think this?

Queen. It may be very likely.

Pol. Hath there been fuch a time, I'd fain know that, That I have pofitively faid, 'tis fo,

When it prov'd otherwife?

King. Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise.

[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.

If circumftances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed

Within the center.

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know, fometimes hewalks four hours together,

Here in the lobby.

Queen. So he does, indeed.

Pol.

Be

Pol. At fuch a time I'll loofe my daughter to him;

you and 1 behind an arras then,

Mark the encounter: If he love her not,

And be not from his reafon fall'n thereon,
Let me be no affiftant for a state,

But keep a farm and carters.

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading.

Queen. But, look, where, fadly the poor wretch comes

reading.

Pol. Away, I do befeech you, both away.

I'll board him presently.

[Exe. King and Queen.

Oh, give me leave.-How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, God o' mercy.

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 fo honeft a man.

Pol. Honeft, my Lord?

Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honeft, as this world goes, is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my Lord.

Ham. For if the fun breed maggots in a dead dog, Being a good kiffing carrion

Have you a daughter?

Pol. I have, my Lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i'th' fun; conception is a bleffing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.

Pol. How fay you by that? ftill harping on my

daughter!

Yet he knew me not at firft; he said, I was a fifhmonger. He is far gone; and, truly, in my youth,

I fuffer'd much extremity for love;

Very near this. I'll fpeak to him again.
What do you read, my Lord?

Ham. Words, words, words.

[Afide.

Pol. What is the matter, my
Ham. Between whom?

Lord ?

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my

Lord. Ham. Slanders, Sir: for the fatirical flave fays here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plumtree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit; together with most weak hams. All which, Sir, tho' I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honefty to have it thus fet down; for yourself, Sir, fhall be as old as I am, if, like a crab you could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madnefs, yet there's method in't:
Will you walk out of the air, my Lord ?
Ham. Into my grave.-

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air :-
How pregnant (fometimes) his replies are?
A happiness that often madnefs hits on,
Which fanity and reafon could not be
So profp'roufly deliver'd of. I'll leave him,
And fuddenly contrive the means of meeting
Between him and my daughter.

My honourable Lord, I will moft humbly
Take leave of you.

my

Ham. You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal, except my life. Pol. Fare you well; my Lord.

Ham. Thefe tedious old fools!

Pol. You go to feek Lord Hamlet; there he is. [Exit.

Enter Rofincrantz and Guildenstern.

Rof. God fave you, Sir.

Guil. Mine honour'd Lord!

Rof. My most dear Lord!

Ham. My excellent good friends! How doft thou

Guildenfiern?

Oh, Rofincrantz, good lads! how do ye both?
Rof. As the indifferent children of the earth.