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, &c.
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. -
[Reads.]
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt thou the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt, I love.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to
reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best,
believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,
Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me:
And more above, hath his solicitings,
As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to my ear.
King. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love?
Pol. What do you think of me?
King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot 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;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
What might you think? No, I went round to work,
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's an ill phrase, a vile phrase, beautified is a vile phrase:
but you shall hear. Thus:
In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. -
[Reads.]
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt thou the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt, I love.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to
reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best,
believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,
Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me:
And more above, hath his solicitings,
As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to my ear.
King. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love?
Pol. What do you think of me?
King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot 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;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
What might you think? No, I went round to work,
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,
