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: That evening, in the castle hall now doubling as a theater, Hamlet anxiously lectures the players on how to act the parts he has written for them. Polonius shuffles by with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and Hamlet dispatches them to hurry the players in their preparations. Horatio enters, and Hamlet, pleased to see him, praises him heartily, expressing his affection for and high opinion of Horatio's mind and manner, especially Horatio's qualities of self-control and reserve. Having told Horatio what he learned from the ghost--that Claudius murdered his father--he now asks him to watch Claudius carefully during the play so that they might compare their impressions of his behavior afterward. Horatio agrees, saying that if Claudius shows any signs of guilt, he will detect them. The trumpets play a Danish march as the audience of lords and ladies begins streaming into the room. Hamlet warns Horatio that he will begin to act strangely. Sure enough, when Claudius asks how he is, his response seems quite insane: "Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed" . Hamlet asks Polonius about his history as an actor and torments Ophelia with a string of erotic puns. The players enter and act out a brief, silent version of the play to come called a "dumbshow." In the dumbshow, a king and queen display their love. The queen leaves the king to sleep, and while he is sleeping, a man murders him by pouring poison into his ear. The murderer tries to seduce the queen, who gradually accepts his advances. The players begin to enact the play in full, and we learn that the man who kills the king is the king's nephew. Throughout, Hamlet keeps up a running commentary on the characters and their actions, and continues to tease Ophelia with oblique sexual references. When the murderer pours the poison into the sleeping king's ear, Claudius rises and cries out for light. Chaos ensues as the play comes to a sudden halt, the torches are lit, and the king flees the room, followed by the audience. When the scene quiets, Hamlet is left alone with Horatio. Hamlet and Horatio agree that the king's behavior was telling. Now extremely excited, Hamlet continues to act frantic and scatterbrained, speaking glibly and inventing little poems. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive to tell Hamlet that he is wanted in his mother's chambers. Rosencrantz asks again about the cause of Hamlet's "distemper," and Hamlet angrily accuses the pair of trying to play him as if he were a musical pipe. Polonius enters to escort Hamlet to the queen. Hamlet says he will go to her in a moment and asks for a moment alone. He steels himself to speak to his mother, resolving to be brutally honest with her but not to lose control of himself: "I will speak daggers to her, but use none" .


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: Elsewhere in the castle, King Claudius speaks to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Badly shaken by the play and now considering Hamlet's madness to be dangerous, Claudius asks the pair to escort Hamlet on a voyage to England and to depart immediately. They agree and leave to make preparations. Polonius enters and reminds the king of his plan to hide in Gertrude's room and observe Hamlet's confrontation with her. He promises to tell Claudius all that he learns. When Polonius leaves, the king is alone, and he immediately expresses his guilt and grief over his sin. A brother's murder, he says, is the oldest sin and "hath the primal eldest curse upon't" . He longs to ask for forgiveness, but says that he is unprepared to give up that which he gained by committing the murder, namely, the crown and the queen. He falls to his knees and begins to pray. Hamlet slips quietly into the room and steels himself to kill the unseeing Claudius. But suddenly it occurs to him that if he kills Claudius while he is praying, he will end the king's life at the moment when he was seeking forgiveness for his sins, sending Claudius's soul to heaven. This is hardly an adequate revenge, Hamlet thinks, especially since Claudius, by killing Hamlet's father before he had time to make his last confession, ensured that his brother would not go to heaven. Hamlet decides to wait, resolving to kill Claudius when the king is sinning--when he is either drunk, angry, or lustful. He leaves. Claudius rises and declares that he has been unable to pray sincerely: "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below" .


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: In Gertrude's chamber, the queen and Polonius wait for Hamlet's arrival. Polonius plans to hide in order to eavesdrop on Gertrude's confrontation with her son, in the hope that doing so will enable him to determine the cause of Hamlet's bizarre and threatening behavior. Polonius urges the queen to be harsh with Hamlet when he arrives, saying that she should chastise him for his recent behavior. Gertrude agrees, and Polonius hides behind an arras, or tapestry. Hamlet storms into the room and asks his mother why she has sent for him. She says that he has offended his father, meaning his stepfather, Claudius. He interrupts her and says that she has offended his father, meaning the dead King Hamlet, by marrying Claudius. Hamlet accosts her with an almost violent intensity and declares his intention to make her fully aware of the profundity of her sin. Fearing for her life, Gertrude cries out. From behind the arras, Polonius calls out for help. Hamlet, realizing that someone is behind the arras and suspecting that it might be Claudius, cries, "How now! a rat?" . He draws his sword and stabs it through the tapestry, killing the unseen Polonius. Gertrude asks what Hamlet has done, and he replies, "Nay, I know not: / Is it the king?" . The queen says his action was a "rash and bloody" deed, and Hamlet replies that it was almost as rash and bloody as murdering a king and marrying his brother . Disbelieving, the queen exclaims, "As kill a king!" and Hamlet replies that she heard him correctly . Hamlet lifts the arras and discovers Polonius's body: he has not killed the king and achieved his revenge but has murdered the relatively innocent Polonius. He bids the old man farewell, calling him an "intruding fool" . He turns to his mother, declaring that he will wring her heart. He shows her a picture of the dead king and a picture of the current king, bitterly comments on the superiority of his father to his uncle, and asks her furiously what has driven her to marry a rotten man such as Claudius. She pleads with him to stop, saying that he has turned her eyes onto her soul and that she does not like what she sees there. Hamlet continues to denounce her and rail against Claudius, until, suddenly, the ghost of his father again appears before him. Hamlet speaks to the apparition, but Gertrude is unable to see it and believes him to be mad. The ghost intones that it has come to remind Hamlet of his purpose, that Hamlet has not yet killed Claudius and must achieve his revenge. Noting that Gertrude is amazed and unable to see him, the ghost asks Hamlet to intercede with her. Hamlet describes the ghost, but Gertrude sees nothing, and in a moment the ghost disappears. Hamlet tries desperately to convince Gertrude that he is not mad but has merely feigned madness all along, and he urges her to forsake Claudius and regain her good conscience. He urges her as well not to reveal to Claudius that his madness has been an act. Gertrude, still shaken from Hamlet's furious condemnation of her, agrees to keep his secret. He bids her goodnight, but, before he leaves, he points to Polonius's corpse and declares that heaven has "punished me with this, and this with me" . Hamlet reminds his mother that he must sail to England with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, whom he says he will regard with suspicion, as though they were poisonous snakes, since he assumes that their loyalties are with Claudius, not with him. Dragging Polonius's body behind him, Hamlet leaves his mother's room.


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: Frantic after her confrontation with Hamlet, Gertrude hurries to Claudius, who is conferring with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. She asks to speak to the king alone. When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit, she tells Claudius about her encounter with Hamlet. She says that he is as mad as the sea during a violent storm; she also tells Claudius that Hamlet has killed Polonius. Aghast, the king notes that had he been concealed behind the arras, Hamlet would have killed him. Claudius wonders aloud how he will be able to handle this public crisis without damaging his hold on Denmark. He tells Gertrude that they must ship Hamlet to England at once and find a way to explain Hamlet's misdeed to the court and to the people. He calls Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, tells them about the murder, and sends them to find Hamlet


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: Elsewhere in Elsinore, Hamlet has just finished disposing of Polonius's body, commenting that the corpse has been "safely stowed". Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appear and ask what he has done with the body. Hamlet refuses to give them a straight answer, instead saying, "The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body". Feigning offense at being questioned, he accuses them of being spies in the service of Claudius. He calls Rosencrantz a "sponge. that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities," and warns him that "when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again". At last he agrees to allow Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to escort him to Claudius


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: The king speaks to a group of attendants, telling them of Polonius's death and his intention to send Hamlet to England. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appear with Hamlet, who is under guard. Pressed by Claudius to reveal the location of Polonius's body, Hamlet is by turns inane, coy, and clever, saying that Polonius is being eaten by worms, and that the king could send a messenger to find Polonius in heaven or seek him in hell himself. Finally, Hamlet reveals that Polonius's body is under the stairs near the castle lobby, and the king dispatches his attendants to look there. The king tells Hamlet that he must leave at once for England, and Hamlet enthusiastically agrees. He exits, and Claudius sends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to ensure that he boards the ship at once. Alone with his thoughts, Claudius states his hope that England will obey the sealed orders he has sent with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The orders call for Prince Hamlet to be put to 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: On a nearby plain in Denmark, young Prince Fortinbras marches at the head of his army, traveling through Denmark on the way to attack Poland. Fortinbras orders his captain to go and ask the King of Denmark for permission to travel through his lands. On his way, the captain encounters Hamlet, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern on their way to the ship bound for England. The captain informs them that the Norwegian army rides to fight the Poles. Hamlet asks about the basis of the conflict, and the man tells him that the armies will fight over "a little patch of land / That hath in it no profit but the name". Astonished by the thought that a bloody war could be fought over something so insignificant, Hamlet marvels that human beings are able to act so violently and purposefully for so little gain. By comparison, Hamlet has a great deal to gain from seeking his own bloody revenge on Claudius, and yet he still delays and fails to act toward his purpose. Disgusted with himself for having failed to gain his revenge on Claudius, Hamlet declares that from this moment on, his thoughts will be bloody


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

Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman.

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

                 Enter Ophelia distracted.

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

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

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

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

    (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-

                    Enter King.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He answers:

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

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

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

                     Enter a Messenger.

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

                    Enter Laertes with others.

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

                      Enter Ophelia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

completion: Gertrude and Horatio discuss Ophelia. Gertrude does not wish to see the bereaved girl, but Horatio says that Ophelia should be pitied, explaining that her grief has made her disordered and incoherent. Ophelia enters. Adorned with flowers and singing strange songs, she seems to have gone mad. Claudius enters and hears Ophelia's ravings, such as, "They say the owl was a baker's daughter". He says that Ophelia's grief stems from her father's death, and that the people have been suspicious and disturbed by the death as well: "muddied, / Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers / For good Polonius' death". He also mentions that Laertes has secretly sailed back from France. A loud noise echoes from somewhere in the castle. Claudius calls for his guards, and a gentleman enters to warn the king that Laertes has come with a mob of commoners. The mob calls Laertes "lord," according to the gentlemen, and the people whisper that "Laertes shall be king". A furious Laertes storms into the hall, fuming in his desire to avenge his father's death. Claudius attempts to soothe him by frankly acknowledging that Polonius is dead. Gertrude nervously adds that Claudius is innocent in it. When Ophelia reenters, obviously insane, Laertes plunges again into rage. Claudius claims that he is not responsible for Polonius's death and says that Laertes' desire for revenge is a credit to him, so long as he seeks revenge upon the proper person. Claudius convinces Laertes to hear his version of events, which he says will answer all his questions. Laertes agrees, and Claudius seconds his desire to achieve justice in the aftermath of Polonius's death: "Where th' offence is, let the great axe fall"


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

Enter Horatio with an Attendant.

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

                          Enter Sailors.

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

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

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

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

completion: In another part of the castle, Horatio is introduced to a pair of sailors bearing a letter for him from Hamlet. In the letter, Hamlet says that his ship was captured by pirates, who have returned him to Denmark. He asks Horatio to escort the sailors to the king and queen, for they have messages for them as well. He also says that he has much to tell of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Horatio takes the sailors to the king and then follows them to find Hamlet, who is in the countryside near the castle


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

Enter King and Laertes.

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

                 Enter a Messenger with letters.

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

                           Enter Queen.

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

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

completion: As Horatio speaks to the sailors, Claudius and a calmer Laertes discuss Polonius's death. Claudius explains that he acted as he did, burying Polonius secretly and not punishing Hamlet for the murder, because both the common people and the queen love Hamlet very much. As a king and as a husband, he did not wish to upset either of them. A messenger enters with the letter from Hamlet to Claudius, which informs the king that Hamlet will return tomorrow. Laertes is pleased that Hamlet has come back to Denmark, since it means that his revenge will not be delayed. Claudius agrees that Laertes deserves to be revenged upon Hamlet, and he is disposed to encourage Laertes to kill Hamlet, since Hamlet's erratic behavior has made him a threat to Claudius's reign. The devious king begins to think of a way for Laertes to ensure his revenge without creating any appearance of foul play. He recalls that Hamlet has been jealous in the past of Laertes' prowess with a sword, which was recently praised before all the court by a Frenchman who had seen him in combat. The king speculates that if Hamlet could be tempted into a duel with Laertes, it might provide Laertes with the chance to kill him. Laertes agrees, and they settle on a plan. Laertes will use a sharpened sword rather than the customary dull fencing blade. Laertes also proposes to poison his sword, so that even a scratch from it will kill Hamlet. The king concocts a backup plan as well, proposing that if Hamlet succeeds in the duel, Claudius will offer him a poisoned cup of wine to drink from in celebration. Gertrude enters with tragic news. Ophelia, mad with grief, has drowned in the river. Anguished to have lost his sister so soon after his father's death, Laertes flees the room. Claudius summons Gertrude to follow. He tells her it was nearly impossible to quiet Laertes' rage, and worries that the news of Ophelia's death will reawaken it.        Act IV, scene