den sickness, he abruptly
left the theatre. The king being departed, the play was given over. Now
Hamlet had seen enough to be satisfied that the words of the ghost were
true, and no illusion; and in a fit of gaiety, like that which comes
over a man who suddenly has some great doubt or scruple resolved, he
swore to Horatio, that he would take the ghost's word for a thousand
pounds. But before he could make up his resolution as to what measures
of revenge he should take, now he was certainly informed that his uncle
was his father's murderer, he was sent for by the queen his mother, to
a private conference in her closet.

It was by desire of the king that the queen sent for Hamlet, that she
might signify to her son how much his late behaviour had displeased
them both, and the king, wishing to know all that passed at that
conference, and thinking that the too partial report of a mother might
let slip some part of Hamlet's words, which it might much import the
king to know, Polonius, the old counsellor of state, was ordered to
plant himself behind the hangings in the queen's closet, where he might
unseen hear all that passed. This artifice was particularly adapted to
the disposition of Polonius, who was a man grown old in crooked maxims
and policies of state, and delighted to get at the knowledge of matters
in an indirect and cunning way.

Hamlet being come to his mother, she began to tax him in the roundest
way with his actions and behaviour, and she told him that he had given
great offence to his father, meaning the king, his uncle, whom, because
he had married her, she called Hamlet's father. Hamlet, sorely
indignant that she should give so dear and honoured a name as father
seemed to him, to a wretch who was indeed no better than the murderer
of his true father, with some sharpness replied: 'Mother, you have much
offended my father.' The queen said that was but an idle answer. 'As
good as the question deserved,' said Hamlet. The queen asked him if he
had forgotten who it was he was speaking to? 'Alas!' replied Hamlet, 'I
wish I could forget. You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
and you are my mother: I wish you were not what you are.' 'Nay, then,'
said the queen, 'if you show me so little respect, I will set those to
you that can speak,' and was going to send the king or Polonius to him.
But Hamlet would not let her go, now he had her alone, till he had
tried if his words could not bring her to some sense