HAMLET. William Shakespeare

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;

       And with his other hand thus o’er his brow,

       He falls to such perusal of my face

       As he would draw it. Long stay’d he so;

       At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,

       And thrice his head thus waving up and down,—

       He rais’d a sigh so piteous and profound

       As it did seem to shatter all his bulk

       And end his being: that done, he lets me go:

       And, with his head over his shoulder turn’d

       He seem’d to find his way without his eyes;

       For out o’ doors he went without their help,

       And to the last bended their light on me.

       Pol.

       Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.

       This is the very ecstasy of love;

       Whose violent property fordoes itself,

       And leads the will to desperate undertakings,

       As oft as any passion under heaven

       That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,—

       What, have you given him any hard words of late?

       Oph.

       No, my good lord; but, as you did command,

       I did repel his letters and denied

       His access to me.

       Pol.

       That hath made him mad.

       I am sorry that with better heed and judgment

       I had not quoted him: I fear’d he did but trifle,

       And meant to wreck thee; but beshrew my jealousy!

       It seems it as proper to our age

       To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions

       As it is common for the younger sort

       To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:

       This must be known; which, being kept close, might move

       More grief to hide than hate to utter love.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE II. A room in the Castle.

       [Enter King, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Attendants.]

       King.

       Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!

       Moreover that we much did long to see you,

       The need we have to use you did provoke

       Our hasty sending. Something have you heard

       Of Hamlet’s transformation; so I call it,

       Since nor the exterior nor the inward man

       Resembles that it was. What it should be,

       More than his father’s death, that thus hath put him

       So much from the understanding of himself,

       I cannot dream of: I entreat you both

       That, being of so young days brought up with him,

       And since so neighbour’d to his youth and humour,

       That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court

       Some little time: so by your companies

       To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,

       So much as from occasion you may glean,

       Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,

       That, open’d, lies within our remedy.

       Queen.

       Good gentlemen, he hath much talk’d of you,

       And sure I am two men there are not living

       To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

       To show us so much gentry and goodwill

       As to expend your time with us awhile,

       For the supply and profit of our hope,

       Your visitation shall receive such thanks

       As fits a king’s remembrance.

       Ros.

       Both your majesties

       Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,

       Put your dread pleasures more into command

       Than to entreaty.

       Guil.

       We both obey,

       And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,

       To lay our service freely at your feet,

       To be commanded.

       King.

       Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

       Queen.

       Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:

       And I beseech you instantly to visit

       My too-much-changed son.—Go, some of you,

       And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

       Guil.

       Heavens make our presence and our practices

       Pleasant and helpful to him!

       Queen.

       Ay, amen!

       [Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some Attendants].

       [Enter Polonius.]

       Pol.

       Th’ ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,

       Are joyfully return’d.

       King.

       Thou still hast been the father of good news.

       Pol.

       Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,

       I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,

       Both to my God and to my gracious king:

       And I do think,—or else this brain of mine

       Hunts not the trail of policy so sure

       As it hath us’d to do,—that I have found

       The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy.

       King.

       O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.

       Pol.

       Give first admittance to the ambassadors;

       My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

       King.

       Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

       [Exit Polonius.]

       He tells me, my sweet queen, he hath found

       The head and source of all your son’s distemper.

       Queen.

       I doubt it is no other but the main,—

       His father’s death and our o’erhasty marriage.

       King.

       Well, we shall sift him.

       [Enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius.]

       Welcome, my good friends!

       Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?

       Volt.

       Most fair return of greetings and desires.

       Upon our first, he sent out to suppress

       His nephew’s levies; which to him appear’d

       To