Chapter: [A street.]

                Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO
                meets them.

  I PORT.  By your leave, sir.

  HIERO.  Good leave have you; nay, I pray you go,
    For I'll leave you, if you can leave me so.

  II PORT.  Pray you, which is the next way to my lord
    the duke's?

  HIERO.  The next way from me.

  I PORT.                       To the house, we mean.

  HIERO. O hard by; 'tis yon house that you see.

  II PORT.  You could not tell us if his son were there?

  HIERO.  Who?  my lord Lorenzo?

  I PORT.                               Aye, sir.

                He goeth in at one door and comes out at another.

  HIERO.                                        Oh, forbear,
    For other talk for us far fitter were!
    But, if you be importunate to know
    The way to him and where to find him out,
    Then list to me, and I'll resolve your doubt:
    There is a path upon your left hand side
    That leadeth from a guilty conscience
    Unto a forest of distrust and fear,--
    A darksome place and dangerous to pass,--
    There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts
    Whose baleful humours if you but behold,
    It will conduct you to despair and death:
    Whose rocky cliffs when you have once beheld,
    Within a hugy dale of lasting night,
    That, kindled with worlds of iniquities,
    Doth cast up filthy and detested fumes,--
    Not far from thence where murderers have built
    A habitation for their cursed souls,
    There, in a brazen caldron fix'd by Jove
    In his fell wrath upon a sulfur flame,
    Yourselves shall find Lorenzo bathing him
    In boiling lead and blood of innocents.

  I PORT.  Ha, ha, ha!

  HIERO.  Ha, ha, ha!  why, ha, ha, ha!  Farewell, good ha,
    ha, ha!

                Exit.

  II PORT.  Doubtless this man is passing lunatic,
    Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote.
    Come, let's away to seek my lord the duke.

                [Exeunt.]

 Two random Portuguese dudes question Hieronimo about the whereabouts of the Duke of Castile , but Hieronimo only gives evasive answers. But he does manage to talk in coded language about the injustice of the Spanish court. And while his crazy talk makes sense to the audience, the Portuguese guys just think he's nuts. From this point on, Hieronimo consistently sounds like madman. Has grief and the twisted path of revenge driven him mad or is he as Hamlet will later say, "essentially not in madness But mad in craft" . Which is to say, "I'm not really crazy, but I'm going to act like I am to throw everyone off my trail." This is a big question in the play, and perhaps the biggest question in Shakespeare's Hamlet. Coincidence? We think not.

