Classic

Hamlet7 / 21

Act II

Scene I

A room in Polonius’ house.

Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.

Polonius

Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

Reynaldo

I will, my lord.

Polonius

You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,Before you visit him, to make inquireOf his behavior.

Reynaldo

My lord, I did intend it.

Polonius

Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,What company, at what expense; and findingBy this encompassment and drift of questionThat they do know my son, come you more nearerThan your particular demands will touch it:Take you, as ’twere, some distant knowledge of him;As thus, “I know his father and his friends,And in part him:” do you mark this, Reynaldo?

Reynaldo

Ay, very well, my lord.

Polonius

“And in part him; but” you may say “not well:But, if’t be he I mean, he’s very wild;Addicted so-and-so:” and there put on himWhat forgeries you please; marry, none so rankAs may dishonour him; take heed of that;But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slipsAs are companions noted and most knownTo youth and liberty.

Reynaldo

As gaming, my lord.

Polonius

Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,Drabbing: you may go so far.

Reynaldo

My lord, that would dishonour him.

Polonius

’Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.You must not put another scandal on him,That he is open to incontinency;That’s not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintlyThat they may seem the taints of liberty,The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,A savageness in unreclaimed blood,Of general assault.

Reynaldo

But, my good lord—

Polonius

Wherefore should you do this?

Reynaldo

Ay, my lord,I would know that.

Polonius

Marry, sir, here’s my drift;And, I believe, it is a fetch of wit:You laying these slight sullies on my son,As ’twere a thing a little soil’d i’ the working,Mark you,Your party in converse, him you would sound,Having ever seen in the prenominate crimesThe youth you breathe of guilty, be assuredHe closes with you in this consequence;“Good sir,” or so, or “friend,” or “gentleman,”According to the phrase or the additionOf man and country.

Reynaldo

Very good, my lord.

Polonius

And then, sir, does he this—he does—what was I about to say? By the mass, I was about to say something: where did I leave?

Reynaldo

At “closes in the consequence,” at “friend or so,” and “gentleman.”

Polonius

At “closes in the consequence,” ay, marry;He closes thus: “I know the gentleman;I saw him yesterday, or t’ other day,Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,There was a’ gaming; there o’ertook in’s rouse;There falling out at tennis:” or perchance,“I saw him enter such a house of sale,”Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.See you now;Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,With windlasses and with assays of bias,By indirections find directions out:So by my former lecture and advice,Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?

Reynaldo

My lord, I have.

Polonius

God be wi’ you; fare you well.

Reynaldo

Good my lord!

Polonius

Observe his inclination in yourself.

Reynaldo

I shall, my lord.

Polonius

And let him ply his music.

Reynaldo

Well, my lord.

Polonius

Farewell!

Exit Reynaldo.

Enter Ophelia.

How now, Ophelia! what’s the matter?

Ophelia

O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

Polonius

With what, i’ the name of God?

Ophelia

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;No hat upon his head; his stockings foul’d,Ungarter’d, and down-gyved to his ankle;Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;And with a look so piteous in purportAs if he had been loosed out of hellTo speak of horrors—he comes before me.

Polonius

Mad for thy love?

Ophelia

My lord, I do not know;But truly, I do fear it.

Polonius

What said he?

Ophelia

He took me by the wrist and held me hard;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 faceAs he would draw it. Long stay’d he so;At last, a little shaking of mine armAnd thrice his head thus waving up and down,He raised a sigh so piteous and profoundAs it did seem to shatter all his bulkAnd 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 helps,And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Polonius

Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.This is the very ecstasy of love,Whose violent property fordoes itselfAnd leads the will to desperate undertakingsAs oft as any passion under heavenThat does afflict our natures. I am sorry.What, have you given him any hard words of late?

Ophelia

No, my good lord, but, as you did command,I did repel his letters and deniedHis access to me.

Polonius

That hath made him mad.I am sorry that with better heed and judgmentI had not quoted him: I fear’d he did but trifle,And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy!By heaven, it is as proper to our ageTo cast beyond ourselves in our opinionsAs it is common for the younger sortTo lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:This must be known; which, being kept close, might moveMore grief to hide than hate to utter love. Exeunt.

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