ot love on the wing
(As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me), what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk or table book;[20]
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;[21]
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;[22]
What might you think? No, I went round to work,[23]
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak:
_Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy sphere;
This must not be:_ and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;[24]
And he, repuls'd (a short tale to make),
Fell into sadness; thence into a weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.

_King._ Do you think 'tis this?

_Queen._ It may be, very likely.

_Pol._ Hath there been such a time (I'd fain know that,)
That I have positively said, _'tis so_,
When it proved otherwise?

_King._ Not that I know.

_Pol._ Take this from this, if it be otherwise:

[_Pointing to his head and shoulder._]

If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.

_King._ How may we try it further?

_Pol._ You know, sometimes he walks for hours together
Here in the lobby.

_Queen._ So he does, indeed.

_Pol._ At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm, and carters.

_King._ 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.[25]

[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ QUEEN, R.H.]

_Enter_ HAMLET, _reading_ (L.C.)

_Pol._ How does my good lord Hamlet?

_Ham._ (C.) Excellent well.

_Pol._ (R.) Do you know me, my lord?

_Ham._ Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.[26]

_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, is to be one man
picked out of ten thousand.

_Pol._ That's very true, my lord.

_Ham._ For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god,
kissing carrion,-