Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench 55, [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Castle. Enter King, Queen, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSEN- King. And can you by no drift of conference Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak. Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded; But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Queen. Did he receive you well? Ros. Most like a gentleman. Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, Most free in his reply 56. Queen. To any pastime? Did you assay him Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it: They are about the court; 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 con tent me To hear him so inclin'd. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, And drive his purpose on to these delights. Ros. We shall, my lord. King. [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither; Her father, and myself (lawful espials,) That thus he suffers for. 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 Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honours. Oph. Madam, I wish it may. Pol. Ophelia, walk you here:-Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves :-Read on this book; That show of such an exercise may colour [To Ophelia. Your loneliness.-We are oft to blame in this,'Tis too much prov'd,-that, with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do sugar o'er The devil himself. King. O, 'tis too true! how smart [Aside. 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:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; And, by opposing, end them?-To die,-to sleep,- That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Oph. Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day? Ham. I humbly thank you; well. Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; pray you, now receive them. I Ham. I never gave you aught. No, not I; |