prompt:
Chapter: Scene III.
Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter King.

  King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body.
    How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
    Yet must not we put the strong law on him.
    He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
    Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
    And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd,
    But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
    This sudden sending him away must seem
    Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown
    By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
    Or not at all.

                    Enter Rosencrantz.

    How now O What hath befall'n?
  Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
    We cannot get from him.
  King. But where is he?
  Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.
  King. Bring him before us.
  Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord.

        Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants].

  King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
  Ham. At supper.
  King. At supper? Where?
  Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain
    convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is
your
    only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us,
and
    we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean
beggar
    is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's
the
    end.
  King. Alas, alas!
  Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and
eat
    of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
  King. What dost thou mean by this?
  Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress
through
    the guts of a beggar.
  King. Where is Polonius?
  Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him
not
    there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if
you
    find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go
up
    the stair, into the lobby.
  King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.]
  Ham. He will stay till you come.
                                            [Exeunt Attendants.]
  King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,-
    Which we do tender as we dearly grieve
    For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence
    With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself.
    The bark is ready and the wind at help,
    Th' associates tend, and everything is bent
    For England.
  Ham. For England?
  King. Ay, Hamlet.
  Ham. Good.
  King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
  Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England!
    Farewell, dear mother.
  King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
  Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife
is
    one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!
Exit.
  King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard.
    Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night.
    Away! for everything is seal'd and done
    That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste.
                            Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]
    And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,-
    As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
    Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
    After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
    Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set
    Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
    By letters congruing to that effect,
    The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
    For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
    And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done,
    Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.             Exit.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In a public show of concern, Claudius explains to his assembled courtiers that he cannot jail his nephew because Hamlet remains too popular with the people. A riot would inevitably occur if he punished Hamlet for his part in Polonius' death, so instead he will send the young man into exile. Rosencrantz enters to report that Hamlet will not reveal Polonius' whereabouts. Guildenstern and the Guards then bring Hamlet in, and Claudius demands to know where Hamlet has put Polonius. Hamlet engages in yet another word play with Claudius, taunting him with images of rotting flesh and the corruption of death. He pointedly tells Claudius that just as a fisherman eats a fish that has eaten a worm that was in the grave eating at a king, every man can progress through the guts of beggar. Then he tells Claudius that even if a messenger was sent to heaven, the messenger could not find the old man. He says that Claudius should seek Polonius in hell, even though the old man would not have arrived there yet either. Instead, Hamlet tells him that, within a month's time, the smell "up the stairs into the lobby" will reveal to them the whereabouts of the body. As attendants go to retrieve Polonius' body, Claudius tells Hamlet that a boat waits to take the Prince to England. As soon as Hamlet and the guards leave, the King soliloquizes a plea to England to finish the Prince quickly and cleanly. The king of England owes him a favor, and he's calling it in by asking the death of Hamlet.


prompt:
Chapter: Scene IV.
Near Elsinore.

Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage.

  For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king.
    Tell him that by his license Fortinbras
    Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
    Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
    If that his Majesty would aught with us,
    We shall express our duty in his eye;
    And let him know so.
  Capt. I will do't, my lord.
  For. Go softly on.
                                   Exeunt [all but the Captain].

       Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others.

  Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these?
  Capt. They are of Norway, sir.
  Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you?
  Capt. Against some part of Poland.
  Ham. Who commands them, sir?
  Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
  Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
    Or for some frontier?
  Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition,
    We go to gain a little patch of ground
    That hath in it no profit but the name.
    To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
    Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
    A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
  Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
  Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd.
  Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
    Will not debate the question of this straw.
    This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace,
    That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
    Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir.
  Capt. God b' wi' you, sir.                             [Exit.]
  Ros. Will't please you go, my lord?
  Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
                                        [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]
    How all occasions do inform against me
    And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
    If his chief good and market of his time
    Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
    Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
    Looking before and after, gave us not
    That capability and godlike reason
    To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
    Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
    Of thinking too precisely on th' event,-
    A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
    And ever three parts coward,- I do not know
    Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,'
    Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
    To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me.
    Witness this army of such mass and charge,
    Led by a delicate and tender prince,
    Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
    Makes mouths at the invisible event,
    Exposing what is mortal and unsure
    To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
    Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great
    Is not to stir without great argument,
    But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
    When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
    That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
    Excitements of my reason and my blood,
    And let all sleep, while to my shame I see
    The imminent death of twenty thousand men
    That for a fantasy and trick of fame
    Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
    Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
    Which is not tomb enough and continent
    To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
    My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!            Exit.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: On his way to England, Hamlet observes Fortinbras leading his troops through Denmark toward Poland. He questions a captain and learns that the Norwegians plan to wage war over a worthless patch of land in Poland. Hamlet lingers behind Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to reflect on the fact that these Norwegians and Poles are willing to die over land worth virtually nothing to anyone. They have left their homes and committed themselves to a principle no more substantive than an eggshell. Yet, he ponders, he possesses sufficient reason to take action against his enemy, but remains paralyzed.


prompt:
Chapter: Scene V.
Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman.

  Queen. I will not speak with her.
  Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract.
    Her mood will needs be pitied.
  Queen. What would she have?
  Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears
    There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart;
    Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
    That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
    Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
    The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
    And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
    Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
    Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
    Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
  Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
    Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
  Queen. Let her come in.
                                               [Exit Gentleman.]
    [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is)
    Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss.
    So full of artless jealousy is guilt
    It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

                 Enter Ophelia distracted.

  Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
  Queen. How now, Ophelia?
  Oph. (sings)
         How should I your true-love know
           From another one?
         By his cockle bat and' staff
           And his sandal shoon.

  Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
  Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark.

    (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
              He is dead and gone;
            At his head a grass-green turf,
              At his heels a stone.

    O, ho!
  Queen. Nay, but Ophelia-
  Oph. Pray you mark.

    (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-

                    Enter King.

  Queen. Alas, look here, my lord!
  Oph. (Sings)
           Larded all with sweet flowers;
         Which bewept to the grave did not go
           With true-love showers.

  King. How do you, pretty lady?
  Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's
daughter.
    Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God
be at
    your table!
  King. Conceit upon her father.
  Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you
what
    it means, say you this:

    (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
              All in the morning bedtime,
            And I a maid at your window,
              To be your Valentine.

            Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
              And dupp'd the chamber door,
            Let in the maid, that out a maid
              Never departed more.

  King. Pretty Ophelia!
  Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!

    [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
              Alack, and fie for shame!
            Young men will do't if they come to't
              By Cock, they are to blame.

            Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
              You promis'd me to wed.'

    He answers:

            'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
              An thou hadst not come to my bed.'

  King. How long hath she been thus?
  Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
    choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold
ground.
    My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good
    counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night,
sweet
    ladies. Good night, good night.                         Exit
  King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
                                                 [Exit Horatio.]

    O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
    All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
    When sorrows come, they come not single spies.
    But in battalions! First, her father slain;
    Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
    Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
    Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
    For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
    In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
    Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
    Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
    Last, and as much containing as all these,
    Her brother is in secret come from France;
    And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
    Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds,
    With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
    Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
    Will nothing stick our person to arraign
    In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
    Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places
    Give me superfluous death.                  A noise within.
  Queen. Alack, what noise is this?
  King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

                     Enter a Messenger.

    What is the matter?
  Mess. Save Yourself, my lord:
    The ocean, overpeering of his list,
    Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
    Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head,
    O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord;
    And, as the world were now but to begin,
    Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
    The ratifiers and props of every word,
    They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!'
    Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds,
    'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!'
                                                 A noise within.
  Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
    O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
  King. The doors are broke.

                    Enter Laertes with others.

  Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without.
  All. No, let's come in!
  Laer. I pray you give me leave.
  All. We will, we will!
  Laer. I thank you. Keep the door.      [Exeunt his Followers.]
    O thou vile king,
    Give me my father!
  Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.
  Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;
    Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot
    Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows
    Of my true mother.
  King. What is the cause, Laertes,
    That thy rebellion looks so giantlike?
    Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
    There's such divinity doth hedge a king
    That treason can but peep to what it would,
    Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
    Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude.
    Speak, man.
  Laer. Where is my father?
  King. Dead.
  Queen. But not by him!
  King. Let him demand his fill.
  Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
    To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil
    Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
    I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
    That both the world, I give to negligence,
    Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
    Most throughly for my father.
  King. Who shall stay you?
  Laer. My will, not all the world!
    And for my means, I'll husband them so well
    They shall go far with little.
  King. Good Laertes,
    If you desire to know the certainty
    Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge
    That sweepstake you will draw both friend and foe,
    Winner and loser?
  Laer. None but his enemies.
  King. Will you know them then?
  Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms
    And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
    Repast them with my blood.
  King. Why, now You speak
    Like a good child and a true gentleman.
    That I am guiltless of your father's death,
    And am most sensibly in grief for it,
    It shall as level to your judgment pierce
    As day does to your eye.
                              A noise within: 'Let her come in.'
  Laer. How now? What noise is that?

                      Enter Ophelia.

    O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
    Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
    By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight
    Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
    Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
    O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits
    Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
    Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
    It sends some precious instance of itself
    After the thing it loves.

  Oph. (sings)
         They bore him barefac'd on the bier
           (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony)
         And in his grave rain'd many a tear.

    Fare you well, my dove!
  Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
    It could not move thus.
  Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.'
O,
    how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole
his
    master's daughter.
  Laer. This nothing's more than matter.
  Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
    remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
  Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
  Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for
you,
    and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o'
Sundays.
    O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy.
I
    would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my
father
    died. They say he made a good end.

    [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

  Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
    She turns to favour and to prettiness.
  Oph. (sings)
         And will he not come again?
         And will he not come again?
           No, no, he is dead;
           Go to thy deathbed;
         He never will come again.

         His beard was as white as snow,
         All flaxen was his poll.
           He is gone, he is gone,
           And we cast away moan.
         God 'a'mercy on his soul!

    And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi' you.
Exit.
  Laer. Do you see this, O God?
  King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
    Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
    Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
    And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
    If by direct or by collateral hand
    They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
    Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
    To you in satisfaction; but if not,
    Be you content to lend your patience to us,
    And we shall jointly labour with your soul
    To give it due content.
  Laer. Let this be so.
    His means of death, his obscure funeral-
    No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
    No noble rite nor formal ostentation,-
    Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
    That I must call't in question.
  King. So you shall;
    And where th' offence is let the great axe fall.
    I pray you go with me.
                                                          Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: A court gentleman reports that Ophelia has become pitiably insane. Gertrude refuses to see the girl, but Horatio points out that Ophelia's mental state may attract undue attention to herself and the crown. Gertrude then agrees to speak with Ophelia. Ophelia enters singing fragments of songs about chaos, death, and unrequited love. The King and Queen both try to speak with her, but she replies only unintelligibly. Claudius comments that her father's death has undoubtedly driven her mad. He asks Horatio to follow and watch her. Then he turns to Gertrude and sums up the troubles that plague Elisinore of late. He recounts his torment over the slaying of Polonius, the secret burial to avoid uprising, the madness of Ophelia, and the arrival of her brother, Laertes, who means to incite rioting over his father's death. The courtiers hear Laertes and a mob outside attempting to break into the castle. Laertes tells his followers to keep watch at the door, and he angrily asks Claudius to give him his father. Gertrude tries to calm Laertes, but Claudius tells her to let him rail, that they have nothing to fear from the young man. Claudius manages to placate Laertes until Ophelia returns, singing incoherent snippets of a song about a dead old man. Laertes comments that a "young maid's wits" are as fragile and "as mortal as an old man's life." Ophelia distributes flowers to the assembled people, and exits. Laertes, distraught over his sister's condition, finally pays complete attention to what Claudius has to say. The King promises Laertes satisfaction in avenging Polonius' death.


prompt:
Chapter: Scene VI.
Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.

Enter Horatio with an Attendant.

  Hor. What are they that would speak with me?
  Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for
you.
  Hor. Let them come in.
                                               [Exit Attendant.]
    I do not know from what part of the world
    I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

                          Enter Sailors.

  Sailor. God bless you, sir.
  Hor. Let him bless thee too.
  Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
you,
    sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for
England- if
    your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
  Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have
overlook'd
    this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have
    letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of

    very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too
    slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the
grapple I
    boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I
    alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like
thieves
    of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn
for
    them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair
thou
    to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have
words
    to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much
too
    light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will
bring
    thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
course
    for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell.
                            'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'

    Come, I will give you way for these your letters,
    And do't the speedier that you may direct me
    To him from whom you brought them.                   Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Horatio receives letters from a sailor sent by Hamlet. The first letter tells Horatio that pirates beset the ship on which Hamlet was being carried to England. In the ensuing battle, the pirates took Hamlet captive; they treated him well and brought him back to Denmark. He has, in return, promised to do them a favor. The other letters, says Hamlet's first letter, are for Horatio to deliver to the King. After he has made the delivery, Horatio is to come immediately to meet Hamlet; Hamlet tells his friend that he has much news to share.


prompt:
Chapter: Scene VII.
Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.

Enter King and Laertes.

  King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
    And You must put me in your heart for friend,
    Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
    That he which hath your noble father slain
    Pursued my life.
  Laer. It well appears. But tell me
    Why you proceeded not against these feats
    So crimeful and so capital in nature,
    As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
    You mainly were stirr'd up.
  King. O, for two special reasons,
    Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
    But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother
    Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,-
    My virtue or my plague, be it either which,-
    She's so conjunctive to my life and soul
    That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
    I could not but by her. The other motive
    Why to a public count I might not go
    Is the great love the general gender bear him,
    Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
    Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
    Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows,
    Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
    Would have reverted to my bow again,
    And not where I had aim'd them.
  Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
    A sister driven into desp'rate terms,
    Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
    Stood challenger on mount of all the age
    For her perfections. But my revenge will come.
  King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think
    That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
    That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
    And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.
    I lov'd your father, and we love ourself,
    And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-

                 Enter a Messenger with letters.

    How now? What news?
  Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
    This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.
  King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?
  Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.
    They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them
    Of him that brought them.
  King. Laertes, you shall hear them.
    Leave us.
                                                 Exit Messenger.
    [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on
your
    kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes;
    when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the
    occasion of my sudden and more strange return.
                                                     'HAMLET.'
    What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
    Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
  Laer. Know you the hand?
  King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!'
    And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
    Can you advise me?
  Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come!
    It warms the very sickness in my heart
    That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
    'Thus didest thou.'
  King. If it be so, Laertes
    (As how should it be so? how otherwise?),
    Will you be rul'd by me?
  Laer. Ay my lord,
    So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
  King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd
    As checking at his voyage, and that he means
    No more to undertake it, I will work him
    To exploit now ripe in my device,
    Under the which he shall not choose but fall;
    And for his death no wind shall breathe
    But even his mother shall uncharge the practice
    And call it accident.
  Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd;
    The rather, if you could devise it so
    That I might be the organ.
  King. It falls right.
    You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
    And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
    Wherein they say you shine, Your sum of parts
    Did not together pluck such envy from him
    As did that one; and that, in my regard,
    Of the unworthiest siege.
  Laer. What part is that, my lord?
  King. A very riband in the cap of youth-
    Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes
    The light and careless livery that it wears
    Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
    Importing health and graveness. Two months since
    Here was a gentleman of Normandy.
    I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
    And they can well on horseback; but this gallant
    Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat,
    And to such wondrous doing brought his horse
    As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
    With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought
    That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
    Come short of what he did.
  Laer. A Norman was't?
  King. A Norman.
  Laer. Upon my life, Lamound.
  King. The very same.
  Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed
    And gem of all the nation.
  King. He made confession of you;
    And gave you such a masterly report
    For art and exercise in your defence,
    And for your rapier most especially,
    That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed
    If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation
    He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
    If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his
    Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
    That he could nothing do but wish and beg
    Your sudden coming o'er to play with you.
    Now, out of this-
  Laer. What out of this, my lord?
  King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
    Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
    A face without a heart,'
  Laer. Why ask you this?
  King. Not that I think you did not love your father;
    But that I know love is begun by time,
    And that I see, in passages of proof,
    Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
    There lives within the very flame of love
    A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
    And nothing is at a like goodness still;
    For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
    Dies in his own too-much. That we would do,
    We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes,
    And hath abatements and delays as many
    As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
    And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
    That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer!
    Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake
    To show yourself your father's son in deed
    More than in words?
  Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church!
  King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize;
    Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
    Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber.
    Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home.
    We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
    And set a double varnish on the fame
    The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together
    And wager on your heads. He, being remiss,
    Most generous, and free from all contriving,
    Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease,
    Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
    A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
    Requite him for your father.
  Laer. I will do't!
    And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword.
    I bought an unction of a mountebank,
    So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
    Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
    Collected from all simples that have virtue
    Under the moon, can save the thing from death
    This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point
    With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
    It may be death.
  King. Let's further think of this,
    Weigh what convenience both of time and means
    May fit us to our shape. If this should fall,
    And that our drift look through our bad performance.
    'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project
    Should have a back or second, that might hold
    If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see.
    We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings-
    I ha't!
    When in your motion you are hot and dry-
    As make your bouts more violent to that end-
    And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him
    A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
    If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
    Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise,

                           Enter Queen.

    How now, sweet queen?
  Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
    So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
  Laer. Drown'd! O, where?
  Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
    That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
    There with fantastic garlands did she come
    Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
    That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
    But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.
    There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
    Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,
    When down her weedy trophies and herself
    Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide
    And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;
    Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
    As one incapable of her own distress,
    Or like a creature native and indued
    Unto that element; but long it could not be
    Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
    Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
    To muddy death.
  Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd?
  Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.
  Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
    And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet
    It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
    Let shame say what it will. When these are gone,
    The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord.
    I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze
    But that this folly douts it.                          Exit.
  King. Let's follow, Gertrude.
    How much I had to do to calm his rage I
    Now fear I this will give it start again;
    Therefore let's follow.
                                                         Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Claudius confirms that Hamlet killed Polonius, though seeking to take Claudius' life. Laertes can't understand why Claudius didn't punish Hamlet for such capitol crimes. Claudius explains that he has restrained himself, even though he has no intention of letting Hamlet get away with his crimes. At this point, a messenger arrives with the letters Hamlet has sent in Horatio's care. Now knowing that Hamlet is still alive, Claudius offers Laertes an opportunity to show his love for Polonius by joining him in a plot to kill Hamlet by engaging in swordplay with him. Claudius promises to arrange a fencing match between Laertes and Hamlet. Hamlet will use a fencing foil, but Laertes' foil will have an unblunted point. Thus, Laertes can kill Hamlet in front of an audience, and it will appear to be an accident; no one will know it is murder. Laertes shares his own plan to dip his sword in a poison so lethal that a minor scratch will cause instant death. Claudius adds yet another safeguard: He will poison a goblet of wine for Hamlet to drink, so that even if Laertes fails to draw blood, Hamlet will die. Gertrude interrupts their plotting with her report of Ophelia's drowning. She describes the young woman's death graphically, explaining how she had fallen in the brook while weaving flower garlands; the willow tree branch on which she was sitting broke so that she tumbled into the water. Ophelia's clothing carried her afloat for a time, but eventually she sank to her death. Laertes finds his grief uncontrollable, and he runs out in a rage. Claudius and Gertrude follow him, ostensibly to quell his anger.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT V. Scene I.
Elsinore. A churchyard.

Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes].

  Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she
wilfully
    seeks her own salvation?
  Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight.
    The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial.
  Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own
    defence?
  Other. Why, 'tis found so.
  Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here
lies
    the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and
an
    act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform;
    argal, she drown'd herself wittingly.
  Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver!
  Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands
the
    man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it
is,
    will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water
come to
    him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is
not
    guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
  Other. But is this law?
  Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law.
  Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a
    gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian
burial.
  Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great
folk
    should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang
themselves
    more than their even-Christian. Come, my spade! There is no
    ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers.
They
    hold up Adam's profession.
  Other. Was he a gentleman?
  Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms.
  Other. Why, he had none.
  Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
Scripture?
    The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms?
I'll
    put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the
    purpose, confess thyself-
  Other. Go to!
  Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason,
the
    shipwright, or the carpenter?
  Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand
    tenants.
  Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does
well.
    But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now,
    thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the
    church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again,
come!
  Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a
    carpenter?
  Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
  Other. Marry, now I can tell!
  Clown. To't.
  Other. Mass, I cannot tell.

                 Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off.

  Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass
will
    not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this
    question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts
    till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of
    liquor.
                                            [Exit Second Clown.]

                       [Clown digs and] sings.

       In youth when I did love, did love,
         Methought it was very sweet;
       To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove,
         O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet.

  Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings
at
    grave-making?
  Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
  Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the
daintier
    sense.
  Clown. (sings)
         But age with his stealing steps
           Hath clawed me in his clutch,
         And hath shipped me intil the land,
           As if I had never been such.
                                            [Throws up a skull.]

  Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How
the
    knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone,
that
    did the first murther! This might be the pate of a
Politician,
    which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent
God,
    might it not?
  Hor. It might, my lord.
  Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet
lord!
    How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one,
that
    prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it-
might
    it not?
  Hor. Ay, my lord.
  Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and
knock'd
    about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine
revolution,
    and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
the
    breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think
    on't.
  Clown. (Sings)
         A pickaxe and a spade, a spade,
           For and a shrouding sheet;
         O, a Pit of clay for to be made
           For such a guest is meet.
                                      Throws up [another skull].

  Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a
lawyer?
    Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his
tenures,
    and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to
knock
    him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell
him
    of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time
a
    great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances,
his
    fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine
of
    his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his
fine
    pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more
of
    his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and
breadth
    of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands
will
    scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have
no
    more, ha?
  Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.
  Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins?
  Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too.
  Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in
that. I
    will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?
  Clown. Mine, sir.

    [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made
              For such a guest is meet.

  Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.
  Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours.
    For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
  Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis
for
    the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
  Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you.
  Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?
  Clown. For no man, sir.
  Ham. What woman then?
  Clown. For none neither.
  Ham. Who is to be buried in't?
  Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's
dead.
  Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or
    equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three
years
    I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the
toe
    of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he
galls
    his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
  Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that
our
    last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
  Ham. How long is that since?
  Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was
the
    very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent
    into England.
  Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England?
  Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits
there;
    or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there.
  Ham. Why?
  Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as
mad as
    he.
  Ham. How came he mad?
  Clown. Very strangely, they say.
  Ham. How strangely?
  Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
  Ham. Upon what ground?
  Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and
boy
    thirty years.
  Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot?
  Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have
many
    pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in,
I
    will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will
last
    you nine year.
  Ham. Why he more than another?
  Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a
will
    keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore
decayer of
    your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath
lien
    you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years.
  Ham. Whose was it?
  Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it
was?
  Ham. Nay, I know not.
  Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon
of
    Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's
    skull, the King's jester.
  Ham. This?
  Clown. E'en that.
  Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew
him,
    Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.
He
    hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how
abhorred
    in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung
those
    lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your
gibes
    now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that
    were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock
your
    own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's
    chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this
    favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee,
Horatio,
    tell me one thing.
  Hor. What's that, my lord?
  Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th'
earth?
  Hor. E'en so.
  Ham. And smelt so? Pah!
                                          [Puts down the skull.]
  Hor. E'en so, my lord.
  Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not
    imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it
    stopping a bunghole?
  Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
  Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
modesty
    enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died,
    Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust
is
    earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto
he
    was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel?
    Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
    Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
    O, that that earth which kept the world in awe
    Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!
    But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King-

    Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King,
             Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.]

    The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow?
    And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
    The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand
    Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.
    Couch we awhile, and mark.
                                         [Retires with Horatio.]

  Laer. What ceremony else?
  Ham. That is Laertes,
    A very noble youth. Mark.
  Laer. What ceremony else?
  Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
    As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful;
    And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
    She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
    Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers,
    Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
    Yet here she is allow'd her virgin rites,
    Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
    Of bell and burial.
  Laer. Must there no more be done?
  Priest. No more be done.
    We should profane the service of the dead
    To sing a requiem and such rest to her
    As to peace-parted souls.
  Laer. Lay her i' th' earth;
    And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
    May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
    A minist'ring angel shall my sister be
    When thou liest howling.
  Ham. What, the fair Ophelia?
  Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.
                                             [Scatters flowers.]
    I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
    I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
    And not have strew'd thy grave.
  Laer. O, treble woe
    Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
    Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
    Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
    Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.
                                             Leaps in the grave.
    Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead
    Till of this flat a mountain you have made
    T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head
    Of blue Olympus.
  Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief
    Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
    Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
    Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
    Hamlet the Dane.                    [Leaps in after Laertes.
  Laer. The devil take thy soul!
                                            [Grapples with him].
  Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
    I prithee take thy fingers from my throat;
    For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
    Yet have I in me something dangerous,
    Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!
  King. Pluck them asunder.
  Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet!
  All. Gentlemen!
  Hor. Good my lord, be quiet.
             [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the
                                                         grave.]
  Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
    Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
  Queen. O my son, what theme?
  Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers
    Could not (with all their quantity of love)
    Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
  King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
  Queen. For love of God, forbear him!
  Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do.
    Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
    Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile?
    I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
    To outface me with leaping in her grave?
    Be buried quick with her, and so will I.
    And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
    Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
    Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
    Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
    I'll rant as well as thou.
  Queen. This is mere madness;
    And thus a while the fit will work on him.
    Anon, as patient as the female dove
    When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,
    His silence will sit drooping.
  Ham. Hear you, sir!
    What is the reason that you use me thus?
    I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter.
    Let Hercules himself do what he may,
    The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
Exit.
  King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.
                                                   Exit Horatio.
    [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's
speech.
    We'll put the matter to the present push.-
    Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.-
    This grave shall have a living monument.
    An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
    Till then in patience our proceeding be.
                                                         Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Two gravediggers discuss the burial for which they are digging. An inquest has declared the corpse fit for Christian burial. The First Gravedigger argues that the dead woman deserves no such indulgence, because she drowned herself and is not worthy of salvation. The other gravedigger explains, using misplaced words and incorrect syntax, that she deserves defending. He reasons that her gentlewoman's rank should earn her a Christian burial. Their dialogue, played for humor, invokes references to the Bible and to the art of gallows-making, where builders build a frame that outlives its tenants. While the Second Gravedigger goes to fetch some liquor, ">Hamlet and ">Horatio enter and question the First Gravedigger. The gravedigger and Hamlet engage in a witty game of "chop-logic" -- repartee composed of a series of questions and answers. The gravedigger tells Hamlet that he has been digging graves since the day Old King Hamlet defeated Old King Fortinbras, the very birthday of Prince Hamlet -- "he that's mad, and sent to England" -- thirty years ago. Hamlet drives the comic dialectic . He mulls again over the nature of life and death, and the great chasm between the two states. He tosses skulls and parries with the possibilities of what each may have been in life. He asks the gravedigger whose grave he is in, and the gravedigger plays with puns, finally asserting that the grave is one who was a woman. Hamlet has no idea to whom the grave belongs. When Hamlet finds a particular skull, he asks the gravedigger whose it might be. The gravedigger tells him the skull belonged to Yorick, the King's jester. "I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." He dwells on the subject of death and the fact that all men are worm's meat, that all that lives will one day die, and that no rank or money can change the equality of death. Death transforms even great kings like Alexander into trivial objects. Hamlet and Horatio then observe that the Queen, King, and ">Laertes arrive among a group of mourners escorting a coffin. He asks whose coffin they're following, and hides with Horatio to listen in to what's happening. He notes that the funeral is not a full Christian rite but that the body is being interred in sacred ground. Laertes argues with the priest over Ophelia's burial. Claudius' command at inquest, he argues, should grant her all the rites of a Christian burial. The priest refuses, saying that, because she committed suicide, he must deny Ophelia the requiem mass and other trappings of a Christian burial, even though Ophelia will be buried on sacred ground. Laertes insults the priest. When Ophelia's body is placed into the grave, Hamlet watches the Queen strew the coffin with flowers. "Sweets to the sweet," she says; "I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife." Hamlet now realizes that it is Ophelia who lies dead in the casket, and he attacks Laertes, who has just cursed Hamlet and thrown himself into the grave. Hamlet and Laertes argue over who loved Ophelia best. Laertes tries to strangle Hamlet, but attendants separate them. Gertrude decries her son's madness. Claudius asks Horatio to look after Hamlet and promises Laertes immediate satisfaction. He instructs Gertrude to have her son watched, implying that another death will serve as Ophelia's memorial.


prompt:
Chapter: Scene II.
Elsinore. A hall in the Castle.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio.

  Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other.
    You do remember all the circumstance?
  Hor. Remember it, my lord!
  Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
    That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay
    Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly-
    And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know,
    Our indiscretion sometime serves us well
    When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us
    There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
    Rough-hew them how we will-
  Hor. That is most certain.
  Ham. Up from my cabin,
    My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
    Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire,
    Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
    To mine own room again; making so bold
    (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal
    Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio
    (O royal knavery!), an exact command,
    Larded with many several sorts of reasons,
    Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
    With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life-
    That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
    No, not to stay the finding of the axe,
    My head should be struck off.
  Hor. Is't possible?
  Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure.
    But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?
  Hor. I beseech you.
  Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,
    Or I could make a prologue to my brains,
    They had begun the play. I sat me down;
    Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair.
    I once did hold it, as our statists do,
    A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
    How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
    It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know
    Th' effect of what I wrote?
  Hor. Ay, good my lord.
  Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King,
    As England was his faithful tributary,
    As love between them like the palm might flourish,
    As peace should still her wheaten garland wear
    And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
    And many such-like as's of great charge,
    That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
    Without debatement further, more or less,
    He should the bearers put to sudden death,
    Not shriving time allow'd.
  Hor. How was this seal'd?
  Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
    I had my father's signet in my purse,
    Which was the model of that Danish seal;
    Folded the writ up in the form of th' other,
    Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely,
    The changeling never known. Now, the next day
    Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
    Thou know'st already.
  Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
  Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment!
    They are not near my conscience; their defeat
    Does by their own insinuation grow.
    'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
    Between the pass and fell incensed points
    Of mighty opposites.
  Hor. Why, what a king is this!
  Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon-
    He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother;
    Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes;
    Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
    And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience
    To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd
    To let this canker of our nature come
    In further evil?
  Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England
    What is the issue of the business there.
  Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine,
    And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.'
    But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
    That to Laertes I forgot myself,
    For by the image of my cause I see
    The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours.
    But sure the bravery of his grief did put me
    Into a tow'ring passion.
  Hor. Peace! Who comes here?

                 Enter young Osric, a courtier.

  Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
  Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this
    waterfly?
  Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord.
  Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for
'tis a
    vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast
be
    lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess.
'Tis
    a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.

  Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should
impart
    a thing to you from his Majesty.
  Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put
your
    bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head.
  Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot.
  Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.
  Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
  Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
complexion.
  Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I
cannot
    tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you
that
    he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the
matter-
  Ham. I beseech you remember.
                           [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.]
  Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here
is
    newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute
gentleman,
    full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and
    great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the
card
    or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the
continent of
    what part a gentleman would see.
  Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I

    know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic
of
    memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail.
    But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
great
    article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to
make
    true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who
else
    would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.
  Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
  Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our
more
    rawer breath?
  Osr. Sir?
  Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in
another
    tongue? You will do't, sir, really.
  Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
  Osr. Of Laertes?
  Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are
    spent.
  Ham. Of him, sir.
  Osr. I know you are not ignorant-
  Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would
not
    much approve me. Well, sir?
  Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-
  Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in
    excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.
  Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on
him
    by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.
  Ham. What's his weapon?
  Osr. Rapier and dagger.
  Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well.
  Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses;
    against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French
    rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,
and
    so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy,
    very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of
    very liberal conceit.
  Ham. What call you the carriages?
  Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the
margent
    ere you had done.
  Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
  Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could
    carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till
then.
    But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their
    assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the
French
    bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call
it?
  Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between
    yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath
    laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial
    if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
  Ham. How if I answer no?
  Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
  Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his
Majesty,
    it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be
    brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his
purpose,
    I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but
my
    shame and the odd hits.
  Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so?
  Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will.
  Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship.
  Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it
    himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.
  Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
  Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has
he,
    and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age
dotes
    on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of
encounter-
    a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and
    through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but
blow
    them to their trial-the bubbles are out,

                            Enter a Lord.

  Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric,
who
    brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends
to
    know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you
will
    take longer time.
  Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's
pleasure.
    If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever,
provided
    I be so able as now.
  Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down.
  Ham. In happy time.
  Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to
    Laertes before you fall to play.
  Ham. She well instructs me.
                                                    [Exit Lord.]
  Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.
  Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been
in
    continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst
not
    think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter.
  Hor. Nay, good my lord -
  Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as
    would perhaps trouble a woman.
  Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall
their
    repair hither and say you are not fit.
  Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence
in
    the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it
be
    not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will
come:
    the readiness is all. Since no man knows aught of what he
leaves,
    what is't to leave betimes? Let be.

    Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other
              Attendants with foils and gauntlets.
               A table and flagons of wine on it.

  King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
                    [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.]
  Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong;
    But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
    This presence knows,
    And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
    With sore distraction. What I have done
    That might your nature, honour, and exception
    Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
    Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet.
    If Hamlet from himself be taken away,
    And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
    Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
    Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so,
    Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
    His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
    Sir, in this audience,
    Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
    Free me so far in your most generous thoughts
    That I have shot my arrow o'er the house
    And hurt my brother.
  Laer. I am satisfied in nature,
    Whose motive in this case should stir me most
    To my revenge. But in my terms of honour
    I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement
    Till by some elder masters of known honour
    I have a voice and precedent of peace
    To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time
    I do receive your offer'd love like love,
    And will not wrong it.
  Ham. I embrace it freely,
    And will this brother's wager frankly play.
    Give us the foils. Come on.
  Laer. Come, one for me.
  Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance
    Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night,
    Stick fiery off indeed.
  Laer. You mock me, sir.
  Ham. No, by this hand.
  King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
    You know the wager?
  Ham. Very well, my lord.
    Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side.
  King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both;
    But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.
  Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another.
  Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
                                                Prepare to play.
  Osr. Ay, my good lord.
  King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.
    If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
    Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
    Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;
    The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath,
    And in the cup an union shall he throw
    Richer than that which four successive kings
    In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
    And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
    The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
    The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
    'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin.
    And you the judges, bear a wary eye.
  Ham. Come on, sir.
  Laer. Come, my lord.                                They play.
  Ham. One.
  Laer. No.
  Ham. Judgment!
  Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.
  Laer. Well, again!
  King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
    Here's to thy health.
               [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within].
    Give him the cup.
  Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.
    Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you?
  Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't.
  King. Our son shall win.
  Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath.
    Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows.
    The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
  Ham. Good madam!
  King. Gertrude, do not drink.
  Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.          Drinks.
  King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.
  Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by.
  Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face.
  Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.
  King. I do not think't.
  Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience.
  Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally.
    Pray you pass with your best violence;
    I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
  Laer. Say you so? Come on.                               Play.
  Osr. Nothing neither way.
  Laer. Have at you now!
                [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they
                    change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes].
  King. Part them! They are incens'd.
  Ham. Nay come! again!                         The Queen falls.

  Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho!
  Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?
  Osr. How is't, Laertes?
  Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric.
    I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
  Ham. How does the Queen?
  King. She sounds to see them bleed.
  Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet!
    The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.                 [Dies.]
  Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd.
    Treachery! Seek it out.
                                                [Laertes falls.]
  Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain;
    No medicine in the world can do thee good.
    In thee there is not half an hour of life.
    The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
    Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice
    Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie,
    Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd.
    I can no more. The King, the King's to blame.
  Ham. The point envenom'd too?
    Then, venom, to thy work.                    Hurts the King.
  All. Treason! treason!
  King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt.
  Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane,
    Drink off this potion! Is thy union here?
    Follow my mother.                                 King dies.
  Laer. He is justly serv'd.
    It is a poison temper'd by himself.
    Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.
    Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
    Nor thine on me!                                       Dies.
  Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
    I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
    You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
    That are but mutes or audience to this act,
    Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death,
    Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you-
    But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
    Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright
    To the unsatisfied.
  Hor. Never believe it.
    I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.
    Here's yet some liquor left.
  Ham. As th'art a man,
    Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't.
    O good Horatio, what a wounded name
    (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me!
    If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
    Absent thee from felicity awhile,
    And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
    To tell my story.         [March afar off, and shot within.]
    What warlike noise is this?
  Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
    To the ambassadors of England gives
    This warlike volley.
  Ham. O, I die, Horatio!
    The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.
    I cannot live to hear the news from England,
    But I do prophesy th' election lights
    On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice.
    So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less,
    Which have solicited- the rest is silence.             Dies.
  Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,
    And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
                                                 [March within.]
    Why does the drum come hither?

    Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum,
                  Colours, and Attendants.

  Fort. Where is this sight?
  Hor. What is it you will see?
    If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
  Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death,
    What feast is toward in thine eternal cell
    That thou so many princes at a shot
    So bloodily hast struck.
  Ambassador. The sight is dismal;
    And our affairs from England come too late.
    The ears are senseless that should give us hearing
    To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd
    That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.
    Where should we have our thanks?
  Hor. Not from his mouth,
    Had it th' ability of life to thank you.
    He never gave commandment for their death.
    But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
    You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
    Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies
    High on a stage be placed to the view;
    And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
    How these things came about. So shall you hear
    Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts;
    Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
    Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause;
    And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
    Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I
    Truly deliver.
  Fort. Let us haste to hear it,
    And call the noblest to the audience.
    For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune.
    I have some rights of memory in this kingdom
    Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me.
  Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
    And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more.
    But let this same be presently perform'd,
    Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance
    On plots and errors happen.
  Fort. Let four captains
    Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage;
    For he was likely, had he been put on,
    To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage
    The soldiers' music and the rites of war
    Speak loudly for him.
    Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this
    Becomes the field but here shows much amiss.
    Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
            Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance
                                                   are shot off.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: A calmer Hamlet recounts the events leading up to his escape from the plot to kill him. He says that he is convinced now more than ever that divine providence governs man's life, and that things happen as they are meant to happen. He tells Horatio that the night before the pirates took him, he found himself unable to sleep. He used this opportunity to investigate Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's cabin. Groping about in the darkness, he discovered letters addressed to the English King, which he managed to open with surreptitious skill. To his surprise, he read that Claudius had requested the king of England to imprison and behead Hamlet as quickly as possible. Horatio remains incredulous until Hamlet hands him the letter. While Horatio reads, Hamlet continues. He says that he immediately conjured a brilliant plan. He composed a second set of letters in the flowery style of the original ordering that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern be killed. He sealed the letters with his father's State Seal, which he carried in his purse. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern do not know that Hamlet has replaced the letters, and thus, according to Hamlet, their demise will be due to their own actions in delivering the letters to the English king. Claudius' behavior horrifies Horatio. "Why what a king is this!" he exclaims. Hamlet reminds him that this same king killed the rightful king, made Gertrude a whore, and robbed Hamlet of his own birthright, all in one fell stroke. Horatio worries that Claudius will learn the outcome of events in England too quickly, but Hamlet assures him that he will now act expeditiously to eliminate the King. Hamlet says he is only sorry about one thing now: That he has had to engage Laertes in the business. Osric, a courtier, enters and Hamlet mocks the man's flamboyance. Osric tells Hamlet that Laertes invites the Prince to duel with him. The King has wagered that Hamlet will win, and Osric is to return and report whether Hamlet will accept. He does. After Osric's exit, a lord enters with instructions from the King to see if Hamlet wants more time before meeting Laertes. Hamlet says he is ready whenever the King wants to get started. Then the lord tells Hamlet that the Queen wishes him to extend Laertes a pre-duel overture of friendship. Hamlet agrees, and the lord exits. Horatio feels uneasy about the duel and suggests that Hamlet could lose. Hamlet shrugs off any possibility of Laertes' winning, but says that, in any event, one cannot avoid one's destiny. Hamlet must do what he must do. All that matters is being prepared for the inevitable. "The readiness is all." With great flourish, the scene is set for the duel. The King calls Hamlet and Laertes together and has them begin the duel by clasping hands. Hamlet asks Laertes to forgive his earlier acts of madness at Ophelia's grave. He further claims that his madness, not he himself, is responsible for Polonius' death, and he begs pardon for the crime. Laertes remains stiff and suspicious in his response, but says he bears Hamlet no grudge. Osric brings the swords, and Laertes makes a show of choosing his; Hamlet asks only if the one he has chosen is the same length as the others. The King sets wine out for the duelists to drink and holds up the cup intended for Hamlet. Laertes and Hamlet fence for a moment until Hamlet asks for a judgment call from Osric the referee. Osric proclaims a hit in Hamlet's favor, and Claudius holds up Hamlet's goblet and takes a drink. With high pomp, Claudius drops a pearl, his gift to Hamlet, into the wine. When Hamlet hits Laertes a second time, Laertes protests that it is a mere touch. Claudius assures Gertrude that, "Our son shall win." Gertrude agrees. She takes Hamlet's wine, wipes his brow, and offers him a drink, which he refuses. She then toasts her son. Claudius asks her not to drink, but she does and then wipes Hamlet's brow one more time.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT I. Scene I.
Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.

Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down
at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him].

  Ber. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.
  Ber. Long live the King!
  Fran. Bernardo?
  Ber. He.
  Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.
  Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.
  Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold,
    And I am sick at heart.
  Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
  Fran. Not a mouse stirring.
  Ber. Well, good night.
    If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
    The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

                    Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

  Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?
  Hor. Friends to this ground.
  Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
  Fran. Give you good night.
  Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier.
    Who hath reliev'd you?
  Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
    Give you good night.                                   Exit.
  Mar. Holla, Bernardo!
  Ber. Say-
    What, is Horatio there ?
  Hor. A piece of him.
  Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.
  Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
  Ber. I have seen nothing.
  Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
    And will not let belief take hold of him
    Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us.
    Therefore I have entreated him along,
    With us to watch the minutes of this night,
    That, if again this apparition come,
    He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
  Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
  Ber. Sit down awhile,
    And let us once again assail your ears,
    That are so fortified against our story,
    What we two nights have seen.
  Hor. Well, sit we down,
    And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
  Ber. Last night of all,
    When yond same star that's westward from the pole
    Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven
    Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
    The bell then beating one-

                        Enter Ghost.

  Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again!
  Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
  Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
  Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
  Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
  Ber. It would be spoke to.
  Mar. Question it, Horatio.
  Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night
    Together with that fair and warlike form
    In which the majesty of buried Denmark
    Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak!
  Mar. It is offended.
  Ber. See, it stalks away!
  Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
                                                     Exit Ghost.
  Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer.
  Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale.
    Is not this something more than fantasy?
    What think you on't?
  Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe
    Without the sensible and true avouch
    Of mine own eyes.
  Mar. Is it not like the King?
  Hor. As thou art to thyself.
    Such was the very armour he had on
    When he th' ambitious Norway combated.
    So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle,
    He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
    'Tis strange.
  Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
    With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
  Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not;
    But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,
    This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
  Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows,
    Why this same strict and most observant watch
    So nightly toils the subject of the land,
    And why such daily cast of brazen cannon
    And foreign mart for implements of war;
    Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
    Does not divide the Sunday from the week.
    What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
    Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day?
    Who is't that can inform me?
  Hor. That can I.
    At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
    Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
    Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
    Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
    Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
    (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him)
    Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
    Well ratified by law and heraldry,
    Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
    Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror;
    Against the which a moiety competent
    Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
    To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
    Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same cov'nant
    And carriage of the article design'd,
    His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
    Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
    Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
    Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
    For food and diet, to some enterprise
    That hath a stomach in't; which is no other,
    As it doth well appear unto our state,
    But to recover of us, by strong hand
    And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
    So by his father lost; and this, I take it,
    Is the main motive of our preparations,
    The source of this our watch, and the chief head
    Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
  Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so.
    Well may it sort that this portentous figure
    Comes armed through our watch, so like the King
    That was and is the question of these wars.
  Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
    In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
    A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
    The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
    Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
    As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood,
    Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
    Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
    Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
    And even the like precurse of fierce events,
    As harbingers preceding still the fates
    And prologue to the omen coming on,
    Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
    Unto our climature and countrymen.

                      Enter Ghost again.

    But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again!
    I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion!
                                               Spreads his arms.
    If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
    Speak to me.
    If there be any good thing to be done,
    That may to thee do ease, and, race to me,
    Speak to me.
    If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
    Which happily foreknowing may avoid,
    O, speak!
    Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
    Extorted treasure in the womb of earth
    (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death),
                                                 The cock crows.
    Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus!
  Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
  Hor. Do, if it will not stand.
  Ber. 'Tis here!
  Hor. 'Tis here!
  Mar. 'Tis gone!
                                                     Exit Ghost.
    We do it wrong, being so majestical,
    To offer it the show of violence;
    For it is as the air, invulnerable,
    And our vain blows malicious mockery.
  Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
  Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
    Upon a fearful summons. I have heard
    The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
    Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
    Awake the god of day; and at his warning,
    Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
    Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies
    To his confine; and of the truth herein
    This present object made probation.
  Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.
    Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes
    Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
    The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
    And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
    The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
    No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
    So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
  Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it.
    But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
    Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.
    Break we our watch up; and by my advice
    Let us impart what we have seen to-night
    Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
    This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
    Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
    As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
    Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
    Where we shall find him most conveniently.           Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: On a dark winter night outside Elsinore Castle in Denmark, an officer named Bernardo comes to relieve the watchman Francisco. In the heavy darkness, the men cannot see each other. Bernardo hears a footstep near him and cries, "Who's there?" After both men ensure that the other is also a watchman, they relax. Cold, tired, and apprehensive from his many hours of guarding the castle, Francisco thanks Bernardo and prepares to go home and go to bed. Shortly thereafter, Bernardo is joined by Marcellus, another watchman, and Horatio, a friend of Prince Hamlet. Bernardo and Marcellus have urged Horatio to stand watch with them, because they believe they have something shocking to show him. In hushed tones, they discuss the apparition they have seen for the past two nights, and which they now hope to show Horatio: the ghost of the recently deceased King Hamlet, which they claim has appeared before them on the castle ramparts in the late hours of the night. Horatio is skeptical, but then the ghost suddenly appears before the men and just as suddenly vanishes. Terrified, Horatio acknowledges that the specter does indeed resemble the dead King of Denmark, that it even wears the armor King Hamlet wore when he battled against the armies of Norway, and the same frown he wore when he fought against the Poles. Horatio declares that the ghost must bring warning of impending misfortune for Denmark, perhaps in the form of a military attack. He recounts the story of King Hamlet's conquest of certain lands once belonging to Norway, saying that Fortinbras, the young Prince of Norway, now seeks to reconquer those forfeited lands. The ghost materializes for a second time, and Horatio tries to speak to it. The ghost remains silent, however, and disappears again just as the cock crows at the first hint of dawn. Horatio suggests that they tell Prince Hamlet, the dead king's son, about the apparition. He believes that though the ghost did not speak to him, if it is really the ghost of King Hamlet, it will not refuse to speak to his beloved son.