Shakespeare's First Folio Part 577

Go some of ye, And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpfull to him.

Enter.

Queene. Amen.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th' Amba.s.sadors from Norwey, my good Lord, Are ioyfully return'd

King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

Pol. Haue I, my Lord? a.s.sure you, my good Liege, I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule, Both to my G.o.d, one to my gracious King: And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare

Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Amba.s.sadors, My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast

King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in.

He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper

Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine, His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.

Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends: Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?

Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires.

Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak: But better look'd into, he truly found It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued, That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes, Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine, Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more To giue th' a.s.say of Armes against your Maiestie.

Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy, Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee, And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers So leuied as before, against the Poleak: With an intreaty heerein further shewne, That it might please you to giue quiet pa.s.se Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize, On such regards of safety and allowance, As therein are set downe

King. It likes vs well: And at our more consider'd time wee'l read, Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse.

Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.

Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together.

Most welcome home.

Exit Amba.s.s.

Pol. This businesse is very well ended.

My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is, Why day is day; night, night; and time is time, Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time.

Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit, And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes, I will be breefe. Your n.o.ble Sonne is mad: Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse, What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.

But let that go

Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all: That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie, And pittie it is true: A foolish figure, But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.

Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines That we finde out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect; For this effect defectiue, comes by cause, Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend, I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine, Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke, Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.

That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white bosome, these

Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.

Doubt thou, the Starres are fire, Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue: Doubt Truth to be a Lier, But neuer Doubt, I loue.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue it. Adieu.

Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me: And more aboue hath his soliciting, As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place, All giuen to mine eare

King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?

Pol. What do you thinke of me?

King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?

When I had seene this hot loue on the wing, As I perceiued it, I must tell you that Before my Daughter told me what might you Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think, If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke, Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe, Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight, What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke, And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre, This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her, That she should locke her selfe from his Resort, Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens: Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice, And he repulsed. A short Tale to make, Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast, Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse, Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues, And all we waile for

King. Do you thinke 'tis this?

Qu. It may be very likely

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that, That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so, When it prou'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know

Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise, If Circ.u.mstances leade me, I will finde Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede Within the Center

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes He walkes foure houres together, heere In the Lobby

Qu. So he ha's indeed

Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him, Be you and I behinde an Arras then, Marke the encounter: If he loue her not, And be not from his reason falne thereon; Let me be no a.s.sistant for a State, And keepe a Farme and Carters

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch Comes reading

Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away, Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, G.o.d-a-mercy

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man