prompt:
Chapter: Scene IV.
The Queen's closet.

Enter Queen and Polonius.

  Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him.
    Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
    And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between
    Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here.
    Pray you be round with him.
  Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother!
  Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him
coming.
                              [Polonius hides behind the arras.]

                          Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter?
  Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
  Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
  Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
  Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
  Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
  Ham. What's the matter now?
  Queen. Have you forgot me?
  Ham. No, by the rood, not so!
    You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife,
    And (would it were not so!) you are my mother.
  Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak.
  Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge;
    You go not till I set you up a glass
    Where you may see the inmost part of you.
  Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me?
    Help, help, ho!
  Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help!
  Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead!
            [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius.
  Pol. [behind] O, I am slain!
  Queen. O me, what hast thou done?
  Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King?
  Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
  Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother,
    As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
  Queen. As kill a king?
  Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word.
                         [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.]
    Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
    I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune.
    Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
    Leave wringing of your hands. Peace! sit you down
    And let me wring your heart; for so I shall
    If it be made of penetrable stuff;
    If damned custom have not braz'd it so
    That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
  Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
    In noise so rude against me?
  Ham. Such an act
    That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
    Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose
    From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
    And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
    As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed
    As from the body of contraction plucks
    The very soul, and sweet religion makes
    A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow;
    Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
    With tristful visage, as against the doom,
    Is thought-sick at the act.
  Queen. Ah me, what act,
    That roars so loud and thunders in the index?
  Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this,
    The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
    See what a grace was seated on this brow;
    Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
    An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
    A station like the herald Mercury
    New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:
    A combination and a form indeed
    Where every god did seem to set his seal
    To give the world assurance of a man.
    This was your husband. Look you now what follows.
    Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear
    Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
    Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
    And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes
    You cannot call it love; for at your age
    The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,
    And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
    Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have,
    Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense
    Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
    Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd
    But it reserv'd some quantity of choice
    To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
    That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
    Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
    Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
    Or but a sickly part of one true sense
    Could not so mope.
    O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
    If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
    To flaming youth let virtue be as wax
    And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame
    When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
    Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
    And reason panders will.
  Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more!
    Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,
    And there I see such black and grained spots
    As will not leave their tinct.
  Ham. Nay, but to live
    In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
    Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
    Over the nasty sty!
  Queen. O, speak to me no more!
    These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
    No more, sweet Hamlet!
  Ham. A murtherer and a villain!
    A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
    Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
    A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
    That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
    And put it in his pocket!
  Queen. No more!

                Enter the Ghost in his nightgown.

  Ham. A king of shreds and patches!-
    Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
    You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
  Queen. Alas, he's mad!
  Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
    That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
    Th' important acting of your dread command?
    O, say!
  Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation
    Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
    But look, amazement on thy mother sits.
    O, step between her and her fighting soul
    Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
    Speak to her, Hamlet.
  Ham. How is it with you, lady?
  Queen. Alas, how is't with you,
    That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
    And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse?
    Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
    And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
    Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
    Start up and stand an end. O gentle son,
    Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
    Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look?
  Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares!
    His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
    Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me,
    Lest with this piteous action you convert
    My stern effects. Then what I have to do
    Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood.
  Queen. To whom do you speak this?
  Ham. Do you see nothing there?
  Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
  Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?
  Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.
  Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away!
    My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
    Look where he goes even now out at the portal!
                                                     Exit Ghost.
  Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain.
    This bodiless creation ecstasy
    Is very cunning in.
  Ham. Ecstasy?
    My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time
    And makes as healthful music. It is not madness
    That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test,
    And I the matter will reword; which madness
    Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
    Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
    That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
    It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
    Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
    Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
    Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
    And do not spread the compost on the weeds
    To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
    For in the fatness of these pursy times
    Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg-
    Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
  Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
  Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
    And live the purer with the other half,
    Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed.
    Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
    That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
    Of habits evil, is angel yet in this,
    That to the use of actions fair and good
    He likewise gives a frock or livery,
    That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
    And that shall lend a kind of easiness
    To the next abstinence; the next more easy;
    For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
    And either [master] the devil, or throw him out
    With wondrous potency. Once more, good night;
    And when you are desirous to be blest,
    I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord,
    I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so,
    To punish me with this, and this with me,
    That I must be their scourge and minister.
    I will bestow him, and will answer well
    The death I gave him. So again, good night.
    I must be cruel, only to be kind;
    Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
    One word more, good lady.
  Queen. What shall I do?
  Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
    Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed;
    Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
    And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
    Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
    Make you to ravel all this matter out,
    That I essentially am not in madness,
    But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
    For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
    Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib
    Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
    No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
    Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
    Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape,
    To try conclusions, in the basket creep
    And break your own neck down.
  Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
    And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
    What thou hast said to me.
  Ham. I must to England; you know that?
  Queen. Alack,
    I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on.
  Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows,
    Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
    They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way
    And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
    For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
    Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard
    But I will delve one yard below their mines
    And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet
    When in one line two crafts directly meet.
    This man shall set me packing.
    I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.-
    Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor
    Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
    Who was in life a foolish peating knave.
    Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
    Good night, mother.
                  [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in
                                                       Polonius.

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

completion: Polonius arrives to inform the Queen that Hamlet is on his way, then takes his hiding place behind the arras. Hamlet's approach to his mother is reserved and reproving. He answers her questions satirically and makes it plain that he disapproves of her incestuous marriage to her husband's brother. Queen Gertrude is alarmed by the vehemence of Hamlet's answers and his insistence that she sit down and listen to him. Hamlet takes the occasion to chastise her severely for her role in murder and incest. He tells her that he will make her see what a monstrous woman she is. She misunderstands her son, thinking he means to harm her. Polonius, hidden behind the arras, echoes the Queen's cries for help, thinking Hamlet will hurt her. Hamlet, mistaking Polonius for the King, runs his sword through the arras and kills him. The Queen cries out in horror, but Hamlet angrily remarks, "A bloody deed. Almost as bad, good mother, / As kill a King, and marry with his brother. Unrepentant over the accidental murder of Polonius, Hamlet tells his mother that the man was an interfering and meddling fool. Hamlet grows increasingly angry, castigating his mother for having committed an act wholly devoid of modesty and virtue. He accuses her of accepting Claudius out of lust and adds that there is no comparison between her first husband, the King, and her new husband, the murderer. The Queen begs Hamlet to stop torturing her, admitting she has acted in poor judgment. Hamlet is not appeased by her sorrow, however, and continues to yell. The ghost appears, visible only to Hamlet, and reminds him of his mission to avenge the murder. The apparition also tells Hamlet that he should not upset his mother; instead, he should help her fight the battle of conscience raging in her soul. The Queen, to whom the ghost is invisible, listens to Hamlet's conversation with "nothing" and is now convinced that her son is mad. When Hamlet calls upon her to see the apparition of her late husband, she can only conclude that he is hallucinating. When Hamlet asserts that he has not uttered anything in madness, there is cogency in his argument and clarity in his speech. He states that he is perfectly in his senses and can repeat what he has already said, proving that he is not insane. He tells his mother that she should not unburden her conscience by pretending that what he has told her comes from the tongue of a raving madman. Hamlet then implores Gertrude to give up her life of vice, returning to her past life of virtue; he further advises her not to sleep with Claudius and defile her soul further. His passion spent, Hamlet then turns to Polonius' body and expresses regret that he killed the Lord Chamberlain. Before leaving, he pleads with his mother not to reveal his sanity to Claudius. He tells her that he suspects something underhanded in his mission to England with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and is certain that Claudius plans to dispose of him, with the help of Hamlet's longtime friends. In a mood of fierce determination, Hamlet leaves the Queen's closet, dragging away the lifeless body of Polonius.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT IV. Scene I.
Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

  King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves
    You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.
    Where is your son?
  Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.
                          [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
    Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night!
  King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
  Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend
    Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit
    Behind the arras hearing something stir,
    Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!'
    And in this brainish apprehension kills
    The unseen good old man.
  King. O heavy deed!
    It had been so with us, had we been there.
    His liberty is full of threats to all-
    To you yourself, to us, to every one.
    Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
    It will be laid to us, whose providence
    Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt
    This mad young man. But so much was our love
    We would not understand what was most fit,
    But, like the owner of a foul disease,
    To keep it from divulging, let it feed
    Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
  Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd;
    O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
    Among a mineral of metals base,
    Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done.
  King. O Gertrude, come away!
    The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch
    But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
    We must with all our majesty and skill
    Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!

             Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

    Friends both, go join you with some further aid.
    Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
    And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him.
    Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
    Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this.
                          Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern].
    Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends
    And let them know both what we mean to do
    And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-]
    Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
    As level as the cannon to his blank,
    Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name
    And hit the woundless air.- O, come away!
    My soul is full of discord and dismay.
                                                         Exeunt.

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

completion: Queen Gertrude reveals to Claudius that Hamlet has killed Polonius in a fit of madness. Claudius, realizing this murder must have been meant for him, is greatly agitated. He cunningly magnifies Hamlet's insanity and the threat that it now poses, justifying his decision to send Hamlet away to England. Claudius then calls back Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and tells the courtiers about Polonius. He instructs them to see that the Chamberlain's dead body is taken to the chapel. Claudius, still trying to protect himself, then tells Gertrude that they must call their friends and tell them what has transpired and what they intend to do about it. In this way, they will secure themselves against malicious slander and will not be held responsible for the Chamberlain's death.


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

Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. Safely stow'd.
  Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
  Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they
come.

               Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

  Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
  Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
  Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
    And bear it to the chapel.
  Ham. Do not believe it.
  Ros. Believe what?
  Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides,
to be
    demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the
son
    of a king?
  Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
  Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his
rewards,
    his authorities. But such officers do the King best service
in
    the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his
jaw;
    first mouth'd, to be last swallowed. When he needs what you
have
    glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be
dry
    again.
  Ros. I understand you not, my lord.
  Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.
  Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us
to
    the King.
  Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the
body.
    The King is a thing-
  Guil. A thing, my lord?
  Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.
                                                         Exeunt.

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

completion: In another room of the castle, Hamlet hides Polonius' body. He then greets Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who have come in search of him. Once again filled with contempt at the dishonesty of his childhood friends, he refuses to answer their queries. He simply tells them that he has "compounded" the body of Polonius with dust. He then openly derides them as sponges, ready to soak up "the King's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. He warns them that Claudius will squeeze them dry when he no longer needs them. Hamlet does not tell them where he has hidden the dead body, but he does agree to meet the King.


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: Claudius is discussing the recent "mad" behavior of Hamlet with the members of the court. He points out the necessity of restraining Hamlet, who has become dangerous. Claudius knows Hamlet cannot be punished in a court of law, since the "distracted multitude" of people in the court love Hamlet and will avoid punishing him. At this point, Rosencrantz enters and tells the King that Hamlet refuses to reveal where he has hidden Polonius' body. Hamlet is then brought in. In answer to the King's questions, Hamlet replies that Polonius is at supper. He qualifies this answer by explaining that the worms are feeding on Polonius. Claudius persists in questioning Hamlet regarding the whereabouts of Polonius' corpse. Hamlet satirically answers that Claudius' messengers should go to Heaven in search of Polonius; he says if he is not found there, perhaps Claudius can look for him in Hell. The King then tells Hamlet that he must at once proceed to England for his own good. Hamlet calmly accepts this news and leaves. The King then orders Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to follow Hamlet and make sure he boards the ship. Alone, the King voices the details of his scheme to dispose of Hamlet. He has written a letter to the English rulers to make sure Hamlet does not leave England alive.


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: This scene opens on a plain in Denmark. Fortinbras, Prince of Norway, marches with his army across Denmark on the way to Poland. Hamlet enters with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and meets a captain who describes the small and worthless piece of land in Poland young Fortinbras hopes to acquire. Hamlet reflects on the futility of war, bloodshed, and the persistent Poles, who will fight for their worthless land to the bitter end. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern walk ahead, affording Hamlet the opportunity to reflect in solitude. He contrasts his inaction to the aggressive behavior of young Fortinbras, remarking in despair, "How all occasions do inform against me, / And spur my dull revenge. He is angry at himself for delaying his father's vengeance, especially as he watches nearly twenty thousand men bravely marching to their death for a meaningless piece of land. Hamlet resolves that from now on his "thoughts  be bloody, or be nothing worth.


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: Horatio pleads with Gertrude to speak to Ophelia, who is distraught over her father's death. He tells the Queen that Ophelia seems to have lost her wits and goes around speaking distractedly about how her father has been murdered. Her actions are causing people to speculate on the reason for Polonius' death. When the Queen consents, Horatio brings in Ophelia, who appears to have had a breakdown. Claudius enters and also tries to speak to the girl, but her replies are meaningless. Claudius tells Horatio to watch her closely. As soon as Claudius is alone with Gertrude, he bemoans the state of things, mentioning Polonius' secret burial, Ophelia's apparent madness, and Hamlet's strange behavior. Additionally, he is concerned that Laertes, who has returned to investigate his father's death, will find out the truth. Suddenly, Laertes and an angry mob burst into the castle. Laertes asks the whereabouts of his father. Gertrude throws herself on Laertes in a misguided attempt to protect Claudius. The King, ever cool and composed, tells Laertes he is not responsible for Polonius' death. Just as he is about to explain, Ophelia reenters, and Laertes is overwhelmed by her pitiful state. She speaks incoherently and hands flowers to everyone, speaking in a lifeless way. Laertes vows to wreak vengeance on the person responsible for the destruction of his family. Claudius assures Laertes that he too is deeply grieved by Polonius' death and Ophelia's insanity. He slyly assures Laertes that the axe of justice will fall on the guilty person, knowing fully well that Laertes will find Hamlet responsible for his father's death. Thus, Claudius sows the seeds of enmity between Laertes and Hamlet-a kind of back-up plan if his English murder fails.


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: In another room in the castle, sailors give Horatio letters from Hamlet. The Prince writes that two pirate ships have attacked his own ship bound for England. Hamlet was taken aboard one of the pirate ships as a prisoner; fortunately, the pirates have been merciful towards him and helped him return to Elsinore. Hamlet writes that Horatio must deliver the other letter to the King and then immediately come to meet him without further delay since he has much to tell him about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Horatio asks the sailors to direct him to Hamlet's refuge and promises to reward them for their labor.


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 has successfully convinced Laertes that he did not murder Polonius. In fact, he tells Laertes that Hamlet not only killed Polonius, but tried to kill him as well. Laertes asks the King why he has not taken any action against Hamlet. Claudius gives two reasons: first, he does not want to hurt the Queen; and second, Hamlet is a favorite of the people of Denmark. The King's reasoning does little to satisfy Laertes, who wants his father's murder avenged. The King assures Laertes that Hamlet will get his punishment in England. A messenger arrives with two letters from Hamlet--one for the King and one for the Queen. Hamlet's letter to the King simply announces that he has returned to Denmark and will call on the King the next morning. The King is understandably shocked; Laertes is eager to get his chance for revenge. The King proceeds to develop a plan for Hamlet's death, making it appear to be an accident. There will be a fencing match between Laertes and the Prince; however, Laertes' blade will be uncovered, allowing him to kill Hamlet. Laertes not only agrees to the King's plan, he also goes a step further. He decides to smear the tip of his foil with deadly poison so that even if he only scratches Hamlet, his death will be certain. Claudius suggests yet another back-up plan in case Laertes fails to wound Hamlet. He says he will poison a cup of wine for Hamlet to drink. Queen Gertrude enters with the sorrowful news that Ophelia has drowned. She tells Laertes that Ophelia slipped into the stream while hanging her flower garlands on the branches of a tree. Her clothes became heavy with water and pulled her down to her "muddy death." Laertes tries to suppress his grief, but cannot; he leaves enraged. The King lies, telling Gertrude he has done his utmost to calm Laertes' anger, but that this news will certainly fuel his desire for revenge.


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 are in a cemetery, discussing the Christian burial accorded to Ophelia. Though her funeral is not allowed in the church, she has been given a plot in its graveyard. As they work, the gravediggers are clownish, telling one another riddles and making jokes. Hamlet and Horatio enter as one gravedigger begins to sing happily. Hamlet watches as the gravedigger picks up a skull from the grave and throws it on the ground. Hamlet's thoughts turn to the inevitability of death; he imagines the people whose bones now lie in the graveyard and wonders what kind of lives they led. When Hamlet talks to one of the gravediggers, he learns that some of the bones belong to Yorick, the old court jester. Hamlet reminisces about the fact that Yorick had often shown him affection, carrying him on his back; Though he once had the power to make everyone in the court happy, the old jester is now nothing but a pile of bones. Hamlet is impressed with the leveling force of death. As the funeral procession approaches, Hamlet and Horatio retire some distance away from the grave in order to observe and not be seen. Hamlet is quick to notice that the burial is for somebody who has committed suicide, for there are no religious rites of a Christian funeral and no requiem is sung. Hamlet then spies Laertes, who commands the coffin to be lowered in the pit. He says that when the casket is covered with mud, violets are sure to grow from it. He also claims that his beloved sister will still be an angel of virtue when the priest himself lies howling for mercy. Next, the Queen bids Ophelia farewell, scattering flowers on her grave and remarking that she always wanted Ophelia and Hamlet to marry. Then, overcome with grief, Laertes jumps in the grave with his sister and calls out to the gravedigger to bury him as well. Hamlet is overcome with sorrow over Ophelia's death and joins Laertes in the grave. When the two men argue, they are restrained by Claudius and Gertrude. As Hamlet leaves, Claudius slyly indicates to Laertes that his opportunity for revenge is almost at hand.


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: Hamlet tells Horatio about his experiences on the ship when he was being sent to England. During his first night at sea, Hamlet discovered the King's secret orders for him in the pockets of the sleeping Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He drafted a new letter, a fake one, directing that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern be killed instead of Hamlet; he puts the new letter in the place of the old one. The next day pirates attacked their ship, and only Hamlet was taken captive. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern continued their journey toward England, oblivious to the certain death awaiting them as a result of the switched letter. As with Polonius' death, Hamlet feels the two men deserve their fate since they meddled in affairs that did not concern them. Horatio is horrified by the magnitude of Claudius' villainy and the suffering Hamlet has undergone; he is especially amazed at the King's letter, which Hamlet produces for Horatio to read. After reading the letter, Horatio says that the Prince has been wronged and should have the right to kill Claudius for murdering Hamlet's father, debauching his mother, depriving Hamlet of his rightful throne, and plotting to kill him. At this point Osric, a foppish courtier, enters with a message from the King that Laertes has returned to court and has become very popular. Osric seeks to arouse Hamlet's jealousy by praising Laertes; however, Hamlet turns the table on him and instead admits that Laertes does indeed possess many fine traits. Osric is confounded but finally manages to convey his message. He tells Hamlet that the King has laid a wager that in a fencing match between Hamlet and Laertes, the latter cannot win. Hamlet accepts this challenge, indifferent whether he wins or loses. On hearing the news, Horatio expresses his concern for Hamlet's safety. Hamlet assures him that he has been practicing fencing since Laertes left for France. Although Hamlet concedes an uneasy feeling, he dismisses it as trivial. Horatio urges his friend to follow his instincts and postpone the match; in the end, however, Hamlet is determined to participate. The King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and other lords and attendants enter the hall with foils. Before the match, Hamlet apologizes to Laertes for his gross behavior at Ophelia's funeral. He admits that he has wronged Laertes and states that he has been extremely distracted. Laertes replies with reservation; while he does not hold any personal grudges against Hamlet, they cannot be completely reconciled until he consults some elders who are more knowledgeable and experienced in the rules of honor. Hamlet is quite eager to proceed with the duel and asks for the foils. Hamlet scores the first hit, and Claudius orders the firing of cannon and the sounding of trumpets. He urges Hamlet to drink his wine and claim the pearl  the King has dropped in his glass. Hamlet refuses, eager to win the match. He scores again, and his mother offers him her napkin to wipe his forehead. Entirely by accident, she drinks from her son's poisoned cup of wine. She then offers the wine to Hamlet, who again refuses. In the meantime, Laertes assures the King that he will strike Hamlet. The King, however, expresses his doubts, and in an aside, Laertes reveals his guilty conscience. The match resumes and Laertes wounds Hamlet. Shocked to find the sword uncovered, Hamlet is enraged and lunges for Laertes. In a fierce scuffle, Hamlet wounds Laertes. Both the contestants bleed, and the King orders them separated. The poison the Queen has drunk takes effect, and she swoons. Laertes cries out that he has been justly served and has been killed by his own treachery. The wounded Hamlet cries out in concern for his mother, but Claudius continues to lie, saying she has only fainted at the sight of the blood. The dying Queen cries out that the drink has poisoned her. Hamlet is incensed and orders the doors to be locked so that the villainous traitor can be caught. At this point, Laertes confesses; he tells Hamlet that he has stabbed him with a poisoned foil, and his death is imminent. Laertes claims, "The King, the King's to blame. " Hamlet turns on the King and stabs him with the poisoned foil, exclaiming, "Then, venom, to thy work." Hamlet also forces Claudius to drink from the poisoned cup of wine and denounces him as the "incestuous, murderous, damn'd Dane." Claudius falls and dies. Before dying, Laertes expresses his satisfaction at Claudius' death and says that the King has died as a result of his own treachery. He also asks Hamlet's forgiveness and tells him that the deaths of Polonius, of Hamlet, and of himself, are all to be blamed on Claudius. Hamlet hopes that divine mercy will pardon Laertes and says that he himself will shortly follow Laertes in death. Hamlet then turns with pity to look upon the dead body of the "wretched queen," his mother. He entrusts Horatio to "report me and my cause aright / To the unsatisfied." Distraught by all that has happened, Horatio wishes to die and insists on drinking the poisoned wine. Hamlet stops him and tells him it is his responsibility to tell his story to the Danish citizens. In the distance, the sound of marching soldiers is heard; Osric announces that Fortinbras, who has returned from his Polish conquest, has fired a cannon in honor of the ambassadors returning from England. Before dying, Hamlet pronounces Fortinbras the successor to the Danish throne. Hamlet dies in the arms of his loyal friend Horatio, who tearfully bids him farewell with the immortal lines, "Good-night, sweet prince, / And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!" Fortinbras enters this tragic scene along with the English ambassadors and his soldiers. He is shocked by the bloody spectacle that greets him. The English ambassadors, who have come for their reward for killing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, realize that they have come too late. Horatio wryly explains the sequence of events that have led to this tragedy. He further says it is his duty to narrate the miserable deeds including adultery, murder, treacheries, and plotting, that have brought them all here. Fortinbras agrees that the violence and disharmony needs to end. His first order is to have his four captains carry Hamlet's body to a full military funeral.