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And todiousness 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? 98 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,
That we find out the cause of this effect,
[Reads. “To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most 110 beautified Ophelia,”—
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; “beautified” is a vile phrase. But you shall hear. Thus:
"'In her excellent white bosom, these, etc.” Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? 115 Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful.
“Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
But never doubt I love.
Thine evermore, most dear lady,
me, And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to mine ear. King.
But how hath she Received his love? Pol.
What do you think of me? 130
And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
Do you think 'tis this?
that166 That I have positively said “'Tis 80,"
When it proved otherwise? King.
Not that I know. Pol. [Pointing to his head and shoulder.] Take
this from this, if this be otherwise. If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 160 Within the centre. King.
How may we try it further? Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours
together Here in the lobby. Queen.
So he does, indeed.
Em this, if tme, I will fin nid indeed
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to
But keep a farm and carters.
We will try it. Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch
comes reading. Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away. I'll board him presently.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.
Enter Hamlet, reading. 0, give me leave, how does my good Lord
Hamlet? Ham. Well, God-a-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 so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord ! Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, 180
is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead
dog, being a good kissing carrion, Have you a daughter?
185 Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i’ the sun. Conception
is a blessing, but not as your daughter may
conceive. Friend, look to 't. 190 Pol. [Aside.] How say you by that? Still
harping on my daughter. Yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone. And truly in my
youth I suffered much extremity for love; 195 very near this. I'll speak to him again.
What do you read, my lord?
Ham. Betweon who? 200 Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says
here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams; all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for
yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am, if like a 210 crab you could go backward. Pol. [Aside.] Though this be madness, yet there
is method in't.—Will you walk out of the
air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave? 215 Pol. Indeed, that is out o'th' air. [Aside.]
How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which