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

Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
cum aliis.

  King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
    Moreover that we much did long to see you,
    The need we have to use you did provoke
    Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
    Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it,
    Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man
    Resembles that it was. What it should be,
    More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
    So much from th' understanding of himself,
    I cannot dream of. I entreat you both
    That, being of so young days brought up with him,
    And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour,
    That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
    Some little time; so by your companies
    To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather
    So much as from occasion you may glean,
    Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus
    That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
  Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
    And sure I am two men there are not living
    To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
    To show us so much gentry and good will
    As to expend your time with us awhile
    For the supply and profit of our hope,
    Your visitation shall receive such thanks
    As fits a king's remembrance.
  Ros. Both your Majesties
    Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
    Put your dread pleasures more into command
    Than to entreaty.
  Guil. But we both obey,
    And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,
    To lay our service freely at your feet,
    To be commanded.
  King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
  Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz.
    And I beseech you instantly to visit
    My too much changed son.- Go, some of you,
    And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
  Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices
    Pleasant and helpful to him!
  Queen. Ay, amen!
                 Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some
                                                    Attendants].

                         Enter Polonius.

  Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
    Are joyfully return'd.
  King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.
  Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
    I hold my duty as I hold my soul,
    Both to my God and to my gracious king;
    And I do think- or else this brain of mine
    Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
    As it hath us'd to do- that I have found
    The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
  King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear.
  Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors.
    My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
  King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
                                                [Exit Polonius.]
    He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
    The head and source of all your son's distemper.
  Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main,
    His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage.
  King. Well, we shall sift him.

              Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius.

    Welcome, my good friends.
    Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?
  Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires.
    Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
    His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
    To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack,
    But better look'd into, he truly found
    It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd,
    That so his sickness, age, and impotence
    Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
    On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys,
    Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine,
    Makes vow before his uncle never more
    To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty.
    Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
    Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee
    And his commission to employ those soldiers,
    So levied as before, against the Polack;
    With an entreaty, herein further shown,
                                                [Gives a paper.]
    That it might please you to give quiet pass
    Through your dominions for this enterprise,
    On such regards of safety and allowance
    As therein are set down.
  King. It likes us well;
    And at our more consider'd time we'll read,
    Answer, and think upon this business.
    Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour.
    Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together.
    Most welcome home!                       Exeunt Ambassadors.
  Pol. This business is well ended.
    My liege, and madam, to expostulate
    What majesty should be, what duty is,
    Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.
    Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
    Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
    And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
    I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
    Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
    What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
    But let that go.
  Queen. More matter, with less art.
  Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
    That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
    And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure!
    But farewell it, for I will use no art.
    Mad let us grant him then. And now remains
    That we find out the cause of this effect-
    Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
    For this effect defective comes by cause.
    Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
    Perpend.
    I have a daughter (have while she is mine),
    Who in her duty and obedience, mark,
    Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise.
                                             [Reads] the letter.
    'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified
      Ophelia,'-

    That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile
      phrase.
    But you shall hear. Thus:
                                                        [Reads.]
    'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'
  Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
  Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful.     [Reads.]

          'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
            Doubt that the sun doth move;
          Doubt truth to be a liar;
            But never doubt I love.
      'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art
to
    reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best,
believe
    it. Adieu.
      'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to
him,

HAMLET.'

    This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me;
    And more above, hath his solicitings,
    As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
    All given to mine ear.
  King. But how hath she
    Receiv'd his love?
  Pol. What do you think of me?
  King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
  Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
    When I had seen this hot love on the wing
    (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
    Before my daughter told me), what might you,
    Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,
    If I had play'd the desk or table book,
    Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
    Or look'd upon this love with idle sight?
    What might you think? No, I went round to work
    And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
    'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star.
    This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her,
    That she should lock herself from his resort,
    Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
    Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,
    And he, repulsed, a short tale to make,
    Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
    Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
    Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
    Into the madness wherein now he raves,
    And all we mourn for.
  King. Do you think 'tis this?
  Queen. it may be, very like.
  Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that-
    That I have Positively said ''Tis so,'
    When it prov'd otherwise.?
  King. Not that I know.
  Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if
this
      be otherwise.
    If circumstances lead me, I will find
    Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
    Within the centre.
  King. How may we try it further?
  Pol. You know sometimes he walks for hours together
    Here in the lobby.
  Queen. So he does indeed.
  Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him.
    Be you and I behind an arras then.
    Mark the encounter. If he love her not,
    And he not from his reason fall'n thereon
    Let me be no assistant for a state,
    But keep a farm and carters.
  King. We will try it.

                 Enter Hamlet, reading on a book.

  Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
  Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away
    I'll board him presently. O, give me leave.
                       Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants].
    How does my good Lord Hamlet?
  Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.
  Pol. Do you know me, my lord?
  Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
  Pol. Not I, my lord.
  Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.
  Pol. Honest, my lord?
  Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one
man
    pick'd out of ten thousand.
  Pol. That's very true, my lord.
  Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god
    kissing carrion- Have you a daughter?
  Pol. I have, my lord.
  Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but
not
    as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.
  Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter.
Yet
    he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is
far
    gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much
extremity
    for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do
you
    read, my lord?
  Ham. Words, words, words.
  Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
  Ham. Between who?
  Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
  Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old
men
    have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
    purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a
    plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All
which,
    sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I
hold it
    not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir,
    should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward.

  Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method
in't.-
   Will You walk out of the air, my lord?
  Ham. Into my grave?
  Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant
sometimes
    his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on,
which
    reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.
I
    will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting
between
    him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly
take
    my leave of you.
  Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more
    willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except
my
    life,

                    Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

  Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
  Ham. These tedious old fools!
  Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is.
  Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir!
                                                Exit [Polonius].

  Guil. My honour'd lord!
  Ros. My most dear lord!
  Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern?
Ah,
    Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
  Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
  Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy.
    On Fortune's cap we are not the very button.
  Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?
  Ros. Neither, my lord.
  Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her
    favours?
  Guil. Faith, her privates we.
  Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a
    strumpet. What news ?
  Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
  Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me
    question more in particular. What have you, my good friends,
    deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison
    hither?
  Guil. Prison, my lord?
  Ham. Denmark's a prison.
  Ros. Then is the world one.
  Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and
    dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst.
  Ros. We think not so, my lord.
  Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either
good
    or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.
  Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for
your
    mind.
  Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a
    king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
  Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance
of
    the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
  Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.
  Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality
that
    it is but a shadow's shadow.
  Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
outstretch'd
    heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by
my
    fay, I cannot reason.
  Both. We'll wait upon you.
  Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my
    servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most
    dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship,
what
    make you at Elsinore?
  Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
  Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank
you;
    and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.
Were
    you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free
    visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay,
speak.
  Guil. What should we say, my lord?
  Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and
    there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your
modesties
    have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and
Queen
    have sent for you.
  Ros. To what end, my lord?
  Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the
rights
    of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the
    obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear
a
    better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct
with
    me, whether you were sent for or no.
  Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you?
  Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me,
hold
    not off.
  Guil. My lord, we were sent for.
  Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your
    discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no
    feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all
my
    mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes
so
    heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth,
    seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy,
the
    air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this
majestical
    roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other
thing
    to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What
a
    piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in
    faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in
    action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the
    beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me
what
    is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor
woman
    neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
  Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
  Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'?
  Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten
    entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted
them
    on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service.
  Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall
    have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil
and
    target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man
shall
    end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
    lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind
    freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are
    they?
  Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the
    tragedians of the city.
  Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in
    reputation and profit, was better both ways.
  Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late
    innovation.
  Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in
the
    city? Are they so follow'd?
  Ros. No indeed are they not.
  Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
  Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there
is,
    sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the
top
    of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't. These
are now
    the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call
    them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and
    dare scarce come thither.
  Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they
    escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can
    sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow
    themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their
means
    are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them
exclaim
    against their own succession.
  Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the
nation
    holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for
a
    while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the
player
    went to cuffs in the question.
  Ham. Is't possible?
  Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
  Ham. Do the boys carry it away?
  Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too.
  Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark,
and
    those that would make mows at him while my father lived give
    twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture
in
    little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than
natural, if
    philosophy could find it out.

                     Flourish for the Players.

  Guil. There are the players.
  Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come!
Th'
    appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me
comply
    with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I
    tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like
    entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my
uncle-father
    and aunt-mother are deceiv'd.
  Guil. In what, my dear lord?
  Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly
I
    know a hawk from a handsaw.

                            Enter Polonius.

  Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!
  Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer!
    That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling
    clouts.
  Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an
old
    man is twice a child.
  Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark
it.-
   You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed.
  Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.
  Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an
actor in
    Rome-
  Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
  Ham. Buzz, buzz!
  Pol. Upon my honour-
  Ham. Then came each actor on his ass-
  Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy,
    history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,
    tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral;
scene
    individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy,
nor
    Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these
are
    the only men.
  Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
  Pol. What treasure had he, my lord?
  Ham. Why,

         'One fair daughter, and no more,
           The which he loved passing well.'

  Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter.
  Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah?
  Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I
    love passing well.
  Ham. Nay, that follows not.
  Pol. What follows then, my lord?
  Ham. Why,

           'As by lot, God wot,'

 and then, you know,

           'It came to pass, as most like it was.'

    The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for
look
    where my abridgment comes.

                     Enter four or five Players.

    You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see
thee
    well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy
face is
    valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in
    Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your
    ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the
    altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of
    uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you
are
    all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at
    anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us
a
    taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech.
  1. Play. What speech, my good lord?
  Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never
acted;
    or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember,
pleas'd
    not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as
I
    receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
cried in
    the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the
scenes,
    set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said
    there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
savoury,
    nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of
    affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as
    sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech
in't
    I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout
of it
    especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live
in
    your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see:

         'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-'

    'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus:

         'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
         Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
         When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
         Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
         With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot
         Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd
         With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
         Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
         That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
         To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire,
         And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore,
         With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
         Old grandsire Priam seeks.'

    So, proceed you.
  Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good
     discretion.

  1. Play. 'Anon he finds him,
      Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword,
      Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
      Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd,
      Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide;
      But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
      Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
      Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
      Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
      Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword,
      Which was declining on the milky head
      Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick.
      So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
      And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
      Did nothing.
      But, as we often see, against some storm,
      A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
      The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
      As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder
      Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
      Aroused vengeance sets him new awork;
      And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
      On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
      With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
      Now falls on Priam.
      Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods,
      In general synod take away her power;
      Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
      And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
      As low as to the fiends!

  Pol. This is too long.
  Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say
on.
    He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on;
come to
    Hecuba.

  1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-'

  Ham. 'The mobled queen'?
  Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good.

  1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames
      With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
      Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
      About her lank and all o'erteemed loins,
      A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up-
      Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd
      'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd.
      But if the gods themselves did see her then,
      When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
      In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
      The instant burst of clamour that she made
      (Unless things mortal move them not at all)
      Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven
      And passion in the gods.'

  Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears
in's
    eyes. Prithee no more!
  Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this
soon.-
    Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you
    hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and
brief
    chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have
a
    bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
  Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
  Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his
    desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your
own
    honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is
in
    your bounty. Take them in.
  Pol. Come, sirs.
  Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow.
                 Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First].
    Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of
    Gonzago'?
  1. Play. Ay, my lord.
  Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a
    speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down
and
    insert in't, could you not?
  1. Play. Ay, my lord.
  Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not.
                                            [Exit First Player.]
    My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome
to
    Elsinore.
  Ros. Good my lord!
  Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye!
                            [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
    Now I am alone.
    O what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
    Is it not monstrous that this player here,
    But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
    Could force his soul so to his own conceit
    That, from her working, all his visage wann'd,
    Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
    A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
    With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
    For Hecuba!
    What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
    That he should weep for her? What would he do,
    Had he the motive and the cue for passion
    That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
    And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
    Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
    Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
    The very faculties of eyes and ears.
    Yet I,
    A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak
    Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
    And can say nothing! No, not for a king,
    Upon whose property and most dear life
    A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
    Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
    Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
    Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat
    As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha?
    'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be
    But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
    To make oppression bitter, or ere this
    I should have fatted all the region kites
    With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain!
    Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
    O, vengeance!
    Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
    That I, the son of a dear father murther'd,
    Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
    Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words
    And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
    A scullion!
    Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard
    That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
    Have by the very cunning of the scene
    Been struck so to the soul that presently
    They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
    For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak
    With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players
    Play something like the murther of my father
    Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
    I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench,
    I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
    May be a devil; and the devil hath power
    T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
    Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
    As he is very potent with such spirits,
    Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
    More relative than this. The play's the thing
    Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.         Exit.

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

completion: Claudius has summoned Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, two boyhood friends of Hamlet. He and Queen Gertrude feel that they can discover the cause of the Prince's apparent madness and send them to spy on him. They leave and Polonius enters. He reports that the ambassadors, sent to Norway, have returned and that he has discovered the cause of Hamlet's madness. He leaves to retrieve the ambassadors and Gertrude expresses doubt that the madness is caused by anything other than King Hamlet's death and the hasty marriage that followed. Polonius returns with Cornelius and Voltemand who report that they have been successful in stopping the attack of Fortinbras. The ambassadors leave. Polonius informs the King and Queen that Hamlet's madness is for the love of his daughter Ophelia, offering as evidence a poem written by the Prince. He bets his life and office on this. Polonius suggests that they send Ophelia to talk to Hamlet while they spy on him. The King agrees and Hamlet enters reading a book. Polonius asks to be left alone with the Prince and the King and Queen exit. Polonius attempts to talk with Hamlet and comes to believe there to be some sort of method to his madness but cannot discover it. He decides to leave and send in Ophelia. Guildenstern and Rosencrantz enter as he leaves. Hamlet instantly recognizes that they were sent by Claudius and tells them. They admit it and Hamlet tells them of his depressed behavior. They tell him that an acting troupe is on its way to entertain him. He tells his friends that he is not entirely mad.only in certain situations. Polonius enters announcing the arrival of the players. Hamlet compares him to Jephthah, a biblical character who unintentionally sacrifices his daughter . The players enter and Hamlet persuades them to perform a speech. He then arranges to write a speech to insert in the play they will perform the next night. Afterward, he is filled with shame that the actor had shown more passion in his performance than he had shown thus far in avenging his father. He hopes that the speech writes will inspire a guilty reaction from his uncle so he may see proof of the crime.


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

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern,
and Lords.

  King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
    Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
    Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
    With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
  Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted,
    But from what cause he will by no means speak.
  Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
    But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
    When we would bring him on to some confession
    Of his true state.
  Queen. Did he receive you well?
  Ros. Most like a gentleman.
  Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition.
  Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands
    Most free in his reply.
  Queen. Did you assay him
    To any pastime?
  Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players
    We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him,
    And there did seem in him a kind of joy
    To hear of it. They are here about the court,
    And, as I think, they have already order
    This night to play before him.
  Pol. 'Tis most true;
    And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties
    To hear and see the matter.
  King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
    To hear him so inclin'd.
    Good gentlemen, give him a further edge
    And drive his purpose on to these delights.
  Ros. We shall, my lord.
                            Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
  King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
    For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
    That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
    Affront Ophelia.
    Her father and myself (lawful espials)
    Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen,
    We may of their encounter frankly judge
    And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
    If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,
    That thus he suffers for.
  Queen. I shall obey you;
    And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
    That your good beauties be the happy cause
    Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues
    Will bring him to his wonted way again,
    To both your honours.
  Oph. Madam, I wish it may.
                                                   [Exit Queen.]
  Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you,
    We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book,
    That show of such an exercise may colour
    Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this,
    'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage
    And pious action we do sugar o'er
    The Devil himself.
  King. [aside] O, 'tis too true!
    How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
    The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
    Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
    Than is my deed to my most painted word.
    O heavy burthen!
  Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord.
                                      Exeunt King and Polonius].

                           Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. To be, or not to be- that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
    And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
    To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause. There's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life.
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
    The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office, and the spurns
    That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death-
    The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
    No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pith and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
    The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins rememb'red.
  Oph. Good my lord,
    How does your honour for this many a day?
  Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
  Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours
    That I have longed long to re-deliver.
    I pray you, now receive them.
  Ham. No, not I!
    I never gave you aught.
  Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
    And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
    As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
    Take these again; for to the noble mind
    Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
    There, my lord.
  Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest?
  Oph. My lord?
  Ham. Are you fair?
  Oph. What means your lordship?
  Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit
no
    discourse to your beauty.
  Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with
honesty?
  Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform
    honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty
can
    translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a
paradox,
    but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
  Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
  Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so
    inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved
you
    not.
  Oph. I was the more deceived.
  Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of
    sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could
accuse
    me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne
me.
    I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at
my
    beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give
    them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows
as I
    do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves
all;
    believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your
    father?
  Oph. At home, my lord.
  Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool
    nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.
  Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens!
  Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy
dowry:
    be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not
escape
    calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt
    needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what
    monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too.
    Farewell.
  Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him!
  Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath
    given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig,
you
    amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make
your
    wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath
made
    me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages. Those that are
    married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep
as
    they are. To a nunnery, go.                            Exit.
  Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
    Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down!
    And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
    That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
    That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
    Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me
    T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

                   Enter King and Polonius.

  King. Love? his affections do not that way tend;
    Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
    Was not like madness. There's something in his soul
    O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
    And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
    Will be some danger; which for to prevent,
    I have in quick determination
    Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England
    For the demand of our neglected tribute.
    Haply the seas, and countries different,
    With variable objects, shall expel
    This something-settled matter in his heart,
    Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
    From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
  Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe
    The origin and commencement of his grief
    Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia?
    You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said.
    We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please;
    But if you hold it fit, after the play
    Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
    To show his grief. Let her be round with him;
    And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear
    Of all their conference. If she find him not,
    To England send him; or confine him where
    Your wisdom best shall think.
  King. It shall be so.
    Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.         Exeunt.

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

completion: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern report that they have failed to discover the cause of Hamlet's madness. They tell Claudius and Gertrude that the Prince showed signs of joy regarding the upcoming performance. Polonius confirms this, further saying that Hamlet would like the King and Queen to attend. Next, Claudius instructs Ophelia to meet with Hamlet so that it may be observed whether or not his madness is caused by love. Polonius and Claudius then follow Ophelia as she wanders out to be met by Hamlet. Hamlet is initially kind but then turns on her. He denies having ever loved her and tells her to enter a nunnery. He calls her father a fool and insults womankind before exiting. Ophelia is crushed and he King quickly denounces the idea of Hamlet's madness being caused by love. Claudius decides to immediately send the Prince to England as an Ambassador in order to clear out the cause of his madness but Polonius convinces him to wait until the Queen is able to talk with Hamlet alone.


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

Enter Hamlet and three of the Players.

  Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you,
    trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our
    players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor
do
    not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all
    gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say)
    whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a
    temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to
the
    soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion
to
    tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings,
who
    (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable
dumb
    shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for
o'erdoing
    Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it.
  Player. I warrant your honour.
  Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be
your
    tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action;
with
    this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of
    nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of
playing,
    whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as
    'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own
feature,
    scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time
his
    form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off,
though
    it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
    grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance
    o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that
I
    have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not
to
    speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of
    Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have
so
    strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's
    journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they
imitated
    humanity so abominably.
  Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us,
sir.
  Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your
clowns
    speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them
    that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren
    spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some
necessary
    question of the play be then to be considered. That's
villanous
    and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Go
    make you ready.
                                                 Exeunt Players.

            Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.

    How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work?
  Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently.
  Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two
    help to hasten them?
  Both. We will, my lord.                       Exeunt they two.
  Ham. What, ho, Horatio!

                      Enter Horatio.

  Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.
  Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
    As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
  Hor. O, my dear lord!
  Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter;
    For what advancement may I hope from thee,
    That no revenue hast but thy good spirits
    To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
    No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
    And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
    Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
    Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
    And could of men distinguish, her election
    Hath seal'd thee for herself. For thou hast been
    As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing;
    A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
    Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those
    Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
    That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
    To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
    That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
    In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
    As I do thee. Something too much of this I
    There is a play to-night before the King.
    One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
    Which I have told thee, of my father's death.
    I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
    Even with the very comment of thy soul
    Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt
    Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
    It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
    And my imaginations are as foul
    As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
    For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
    And after we will both our judgments join
    In censure of his seeming.
  Hor. Well, my lord.
    If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
    And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

    Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish
    march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz,
      Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard
                       carrying torches.

  Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle.
    Get you a place.
  King. How fares our cousin Hamlet?
  Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the
air,
    promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so.
  King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are
not
    mine.
  Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once
    i' th' university, you say?
  Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
  Ham. What did you enact?
  Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol;
Brutus
    kill'd me.
  Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
there. Be
    the players ready.
  Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience.
  Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
  Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive.
  Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that?
  Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
                                  [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.]

  Oph. No, my lord.
  Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?
  Oph. Ay, my lord.
  Ham. Do you think I meant country matters?
  Oph. I think nothing, my lord.
  Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
  Oph. What is, my lord?
  Ham. Nothing.
  Oph. You are merry, my lord.
  Ham. Who, I?
  Oph. Ay, my lord.
  Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be
merry?
    For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father
died
    within 's two hours.
  Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.
  Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have
a
    suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not
forgotten
    yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his
life
    half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or
else
    shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose

    epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!'

               Hautboys play. The dumb show enters.

    Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing
    him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation
    unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her
    neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing
    him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
    crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and
    leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes
    passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four
Mutes,
    comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is
    carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she
    seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts
    his love.
                                                         Exeunt.

  Oph. What means this, my lord?
  Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief.
  Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

                      Enter Prologue.

  Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep
counsel;
    they'll tell all.
  Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant?
  Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd
to
    show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.
  Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.

    Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
      Here stooping to your clemency,
      We beg your hearing patiently.                     [Exit.]

  Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
  Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord.
  Ham. As woman's love.

              Enter [two Players as] King and Queen.

    King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
      Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
      And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen
      About the world have times twelve thirties been,
      Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
      Unite comutual in most sacred bands.
    Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon
      Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
      But woe is me! you are so sick of late,
      So far from cheer and from your former state.
      That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
      Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;
      For women's fear and love holds quantity,
      In neither aught, or in extremity.
      Now what my love is, proof hath made you know;
      And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so.
      Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
      Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
    King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
      My operant powers their functions leave to do.
      And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
      Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind
      For husband shalt thou-
    Queen. O, confound the rest!
      Such love must needs be treason in my breast.
      When second husband let me be accurst!
      None wed the second but who killed the first.

  Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood!

    Queen. The instances that second marriage move
      Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
      A second time I kill my husband dead
      When second husband kisses me in bed.
    King. I do believe you think what now you speak;
      But what we do determine oft we break.
      Purpose is but the slave to memory,
      Of violent birth, but poor validity;
      Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,
      But fall unshaken when they mellow be.
      Most necessary 'tis that we forget
      To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.
      What to ourselves in passion we propose,
      The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
      The violence of either grief or joy
      Their own enactures with themselves destroy.
      Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
      Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
      This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
      That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
      For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
      Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
      The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,
      The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies;
      And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,
      For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
      And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
      Directly seasons him his enemy.
      But, orderly to end where I begun,
      Our wills and fates do so contrary run
      That our devices still are overthrown;
      Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
      So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
      But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
    Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light,
      Sport and repose lock from me day and night,
      To desperation turn my trust and hope,
      An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope,
      Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
      Meet what I would have well, and it destroy,
      Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
      If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

  Ham. If she should break it now!

    King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile.
      My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
      The tedious day with sleep.
    Queen. Sleep rock thy brain,
                                                    [He] sleeps.
      And never come mischance between us twain!
Exit.

  Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
  Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
  Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.
  King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?
  Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i'
th'
    world.
  King. What do you call the play?
  Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the
    image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's
name;
    his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece
of
    work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free
    souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our
withers
    are unwrung.

                         Enter Lucianus.

    This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.
  Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
  Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could
see
    the puppets dallying.
  Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
  Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
  Oph. Still better, and worse.
  Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox,
leave
    thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth
    bellow for revenge.

    Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
      Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
      Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
      With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
      Thy natural magic and dire property
      On wholesome life usurp immediately.
                                   Pours the poison in his ears.

  Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's
Gonzago.
    The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You
    shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's
wife.
  Oph. The King rises.
  Ham. What, frighted with false fire?
  Queen. How fares my lord?
  Pol. Give o'er the play.
  King. Give me some light! Away!
  All. Lights, lights, lights!
                              Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.
  Ham.   Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
          The hart ungalled play;
         For some must watch, while some must sleep:
          Thus runs the world away.
    Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of
my
    fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my
raz'd
    shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?
  Hor. Half a share.
  Ham.   A whole one I!
         For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
           This realm dismantled was
         Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
           A very, very- pajock.
  Hor. You might have rhym'd.
  Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand
    pound! Didst perceive?
  Hor. Very well, my lord.
  Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning?
  Hor. I did very well note him.
  Ham.   Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders!
         For if the King like not the comedy,
         Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.
    Come, some music!

                Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

  Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
  Ham. Sir, a whole history.
  Guil. The King, sir-
  Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?
  Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd.
  Ham. With drink, sir?
  Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler.
  Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this
to
    the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps
    plunge him into far more choler.
  Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and
start
    not so wildly from my affair.
  Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce.
  Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
spirit
    hath sent me to you.
  Ham. You are welcome.
  Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
breed.
    If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will
do
    your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return
    shall be the end of my business.
  Ham. Sir, I cannot.
  Guil. What, my lord?
  Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir,
such
    answer as I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you
say,
    my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother,
you
    say-
  Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into
    amazement and admiration.
  Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is
there no
    sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart.
  Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to
bed.
  Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any
    further trade with us?
  Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
  Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers!
  Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do
surely
    bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs
to
    your friend.
  Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
  Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King
himself
    for your succession in Denmark?
  Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is
something
    musty.

                     Enter the Players with recorders.

    O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why
do
    you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive
me
    into a toil?
  Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
unmannerly.
  Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this
pipe?
  Guil. My lord, I cannot.
  Ham. I pray you.
  Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
  Ham. I do beseech you.
  Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord.
  Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your
    fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it
will
    discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.
  Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I
    have not the skill.
  Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me!
You
    would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you
would
    pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my
    lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much
music,
    excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it
    speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than
a
    pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret
me,
    you cannot play upon me.

                        Enter Polonius.

    God bless you, sir!
  Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently.
  Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
  Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed.
  Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel.
  Pol. It is back'd like a weasel.
  Ham. Or like a whale.
  Pol. Very like a whale.
  Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to
the
    top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by.
  Pol. I will say so.                                      Exit.
  Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends.
                                        [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]

    'Tis now the very witching time of night,
    When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
    Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
    And do such bitter business as the day
    Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!
    O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
    The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.
    Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
    I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
    My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites-
    How in my words somever she be shent,
    To give them seals never, my soul, consent!             Exit.

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

completion: Hamlet instructs the players on how to perform. As he is finishing, Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern enter to tell him that the King and Queen are on their way to attend the performance. Horatio enters and Hamlet reminds him of the ghost and secures his help in observing Claudius during the performance for signs of guilt. The King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, and the rest of the court enter for the performance. Hamlet makes comments to Ophelia for all to hear regarding his mother's hasty marriage. The players begin with the dumb show, which depicts a scene identical to the murder of King Hamlet. Ophelia attempts to elicit the meaning of the dumb show from Hamlet but he will not tell. The play begins. Hamlet tells the King and Queen that it is the depiction of a murder in Vienna and narrates as the players continue. As the murder of the actor king in the garden is enacted, Claudius jumps up, stops the play, and runs out. Hamlet takes this action as proof of his guilt. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive to inform him that his mother desires to speak with him. Polonius enters as they talk and repeats Gertrude's desire. Hamlet sends them to tell her that he is coming. He plans to give his mother a harsh talking to.


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

Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.

  King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
    To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
    I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
    And he to England shall along with you.
    The terms of our estate may not endure
    Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow
    Out of his lunacies.
  Guil. We will ourselves provide.
    Most holy and religious fear it is
    To keep those many many bodies safe
    That live and feed upon your Majesty.
  Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound
    With all the strength and armour of the mind
    To keep itself from noyance; but much more
    That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests
    The lives of many. The cesse of majesty
    Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw
    What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel,
    Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
    To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
    Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls,
    Each small annexment, petty consequence,
    Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
    Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
  King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
    For we will fetters put upon this fear,
    Which now goes too free-footed.
  Both. We will haste us.
                                               Exeunt Gentlemen.

                   Enter Polonius.

  Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
    Behind the arras I'll convey myself
    To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home;
    And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
    'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
    Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
    The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege.
    I'll call upon you ere you go to bed
    And tell you what I know.
  King. Thanks, dear my lord.
                                                Exit [Polonius].
    O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
    It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
    A brother's murther! Pray can I not,
    Though inclination be as sharp as will.
    My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
    And, like a man to double business bound,
    I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
    And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
    Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
    Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
    To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
    But to confront the visage of offence?
    And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
    To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
    Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
    My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
    Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'?
    That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
    Of those effects for which I did the murther-
    My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
    May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?
    In the corrupted currents of this world
    Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
    And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
    Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above.
    There is no shuffling; there the action lies
    In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
    Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
    To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
    Try what repentance can. What can it not?
    Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
    O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
    O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
    Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.
    Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
    Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
    All may be well.                                  He kneels.

                         Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
    And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven,
    And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd.
    A villain kills my father; and for that,
    I, his sole son, do this same villain send
    To heaven.
    Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
    He took my father grossly, full of bread,
    With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
    And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
    But in our circumstance and course of thought,
    'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd,
    To take him in the purging of his soul,
    When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
    No.
    Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
    When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
    Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed;
    At gaming, swearing, or about some act
    That has no relish of salvation in't-
    Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
    And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
    As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
    This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.              Exit.
  King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
    Words without thoughts never to heaven go.             Exit.

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

completion: Claudius orders Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to leave for England immediately, taking the Prince. They vow to do so and leave as Polonius enters. Polonius informs the King that Hamlet is on his way to speak with Gertrude and plans to hide in the room to listen. Left alone, Claudius begins to speak of his guilt. As he kneels to pray for forgiveness and to be released from his guilt, Hamlet quietly enters. The Prince draws his sword, planning to kill Claudius, but stops when he gets the idea that if he dies having purged his soul of sin, Claudius will go to heaven. Hamlet decides to kill Claudius later when he is behaving sinfully to ensure that he will go to hell. He leaves and the King rises, telling the audience that he has been unable to pray.


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: The Queen and Polonius are in her room. Polonius hides behind a curtain where he plans to eavesdrop on her conversation with Hamlet. Hamlet enters and begins to argue with his mother. She becomes frightened that Hamlet intends to harm her. She cries out and startled, Polonius echoes her cry. Thinking he is Claudius, Hamlet stabs Polonius through the curtain. He calls Polonius an intruding fool as he pulls his body into the open. The Queen is horrified and Hamlet tells her that his crime is almost as bad as hers. He is remorseful for his action but continues to berate his mother for her betrayal of his father. As she is begging him to stop, the Ghost appears but is visible only to Hamlet. The Queen thinks Hamlet's conversation with what appears to be thin air is produced by his madness. The Ghost reminds Hamlet of his purpose. Hamlet then entreats his mother to repent and abandon Claudius. He tells her of his suspicion that the trip to England is a plot against him and leaves, dragging the 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: Gertrude tells Claudius of Polonius' death. She tells him that Hamlet is repentant for his act and Claudius sends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to fetch Hamlet and the body. He and Gertrude plane to pardon Hamlet due to his madness and then send him away.


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: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern find Hamlet but he will not tell them where he has hidden the body of Polonius.


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: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bring Hamlet before Claudius who asks him where he has hidden the body. Hamlet gives a hint and men are sent to seek Polonius. Claudius then tells Hamlet that he his to leave immediately for England. Hamlet hints of his suspicion but agrees to leave. Left alone, the King tells the audience that Hamlet is being sent to his death.


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: Fortinbras and his army arrive for their promised march across the kingdom. Fortinbras sends his captain to obtain an escort from Claudius. Hamlet encounters the captain and is shamed by the vigorous activity of the army. He resolves to take action himself.