Out of my weakness and my melancholy [Exit. Enter KING, QUEEN, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. King. And can you, by no drift of circumstance, 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, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Queen. Did he receive you well? Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, Most free in his reply. Queen. To any pastime? Did you assay him Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players Pol. "Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter. King. 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 these delights. King. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither ; Her father, and myself-lawful espials- If't be the affliction of his love or no Queen. I shall obey you: And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish, That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness; so shall I hope your virtues To both your honours. Oph. Madam, I wish it may. [Exit QUEEN. Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.-Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves.-Read on this book; [TO OPHELIA. That show of such an exercise may colour The devil himself. King. [Aside.] O, 'tis too true! conscience! How smart a lash that speech doth give my Pol. I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. [Exeunt KING and POLONIUS. Enter HAMLET. Ham. To be, or not to be-that is the question: To sleep! perchance to dream-ay, there's the rub; That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, Oph. I pray you, now receive them. Ham. I never gave you aught. No, not I; Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest ? Oph. My lord? Ham. Are you fair? |