A heart unfortified, or mind impatient:
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any of the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fye! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And, with no less nobility of love,

Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire :
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet;
I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark.-Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, &c. POLONIUS,
and LAERTES.

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead! - nay, not so much, not two; So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,-
Let me not think on't;- Frailty, thy name is woman!-
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, even she,-

O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer,-married with my uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married :-O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;

But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue!
Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!
Ham.
Horatio,-

I am glad to see you well: —or I do forget myself. Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you.

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio ?— Marcellus ?

Mar. My good lord,

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir,-
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know, you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;

I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio?-
My father, Methinks, I see my father.
Hor.
My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Where,

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham.

The king my far
Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham.
For God's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waist and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pé,

Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprized eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them, the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham.
But where was this!
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor.

My lord, I did: But answer made it none: yet once, methought, It lifted up its head, and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak: But, even then, the morning cock crew loud; And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham.

'Tis very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true: And we did think it writ down in our duty, To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me Hold you the watch to-night?

All.

We do, my lord.

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a
Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.
[hundred.
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham.
His beard was grizzl'd? no?
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.

Ham.
I will watch to-night;
Dercnance, 'twill walk again.
Hor.
I warrant, it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All.
Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.
My father's spirit in arms! all is not well,
I doubt some foul play: 'would, the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelms them, to men's eyes.
[Exit.

SCENE III.-A Room in Polonius' House.
Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.

Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.

Oph.

Do you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

Oph. No more but so?
Laer.
Think it no more :
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now;
And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirch
The virtue of his will: but, you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

The safety and the health of the whole state,
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib d
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
Whereof he is the head: Then if he says, he loves you,
It wits your wisdom so far to believe it,
As he in his particular act and place

May give his saying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs;
Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then best safety lies in fear;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

:

Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchmen to my heart: But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Shew me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

I stay too long;-But here my father comes.
Enter POLONIUS.

A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for: There, my blessing with you!
[Laying his hand on LAERTES' head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy: rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

Beware

And they in France, of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous, chief in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants tend
Laer. Farewell, Ophelia and remember well
What I have said to you.
Oph.
'Tis in my memory lock'd
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer. Farewell.
[Eait LAERTES

[Hamlet.

Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he said to you?
Oph. So please you, something touching the lord
Pol. Marry, well bethought:
Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:
If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me,

And that in way of caution,) I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour:
What is between you? give me up the truth.
Oph He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Pol Affection? puh! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think. Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or, (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Wronging it thus,) you'll tender me a fool

Oph. My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love, In honourable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven. [my lord,
Pol. Ay, springes, to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat, -extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a making,-
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of
your maiden
presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, That he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walk,
Than may be given you: In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows: for they are brokers
Not of that die which their investments shew,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all,-

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,

As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.

Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
Hor. It is a uipping and an eager air.
Ham. What hour now?
Hor.

I think, it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is struck. Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; then it draws near the Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [season, [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord? [rouse, Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up spring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Hor.

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

Is it a custom ?

But to my mind,-though I am native here,

And to the manner born,-it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.

This heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations:
They clepe us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at heigh
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,

That for some vicious mole of nature in them
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,)
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plausive manners;-that these men,-
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,)
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance often dout,
To his own scandal.

Enter Ghost.

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin dama'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from le.. Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me : Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell, Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again! What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, So horribly to shake our disposition,

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham.

Why, what should be the fear: I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again ;-I'll follow it Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff, lord, That beetles o'er his base into the sea? And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, And draw you into madness? think of it: The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain, That looks so many fathoms to the sea, And hears it roar beneath. Ham.

Go on, I'll follow thee.

It waves me still:

Mar. You shall not go, my lord. Ham.

Hold off your hands.

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go. Ham.

And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.

[Ghost beckons.

:

Still am I call'd ;-unhand me, gentlemen:-
[Breaking from them.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me:-
I say, away:-Go on, I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET.
Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.
Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after:-To what issue will this come?
Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hor. Heaven will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

[Exeunt.

Ham. Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Speak, I am bound to hear. Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And, for the day confin'd to fast in fires,

Fill the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be

l'o ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, O list!-
!f thou didst ever thy dear father love,-
Ham. O heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural mur-
Ham. Murder?

[der.

;

[swift

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.
I find thee apt;
And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O) wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust

The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven
So lust, though to a radiant angel'link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.

But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air.
Brief let me be:-Sleeping within mine orcnara
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole.
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's land,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd.
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible
Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow worm shews the matin to be near,
And gins to pale his ineffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell?-O fye!—Hold, ho.d, mv
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, [heart
But bear me stiffly up!-Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee'
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven.
O most pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,-meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I am sure, may be so in Denmark:

[Writing

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me.
I have sworn't.

Hor. [Within.] My lord, my lord,
Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,
Hor. [Within.]

Ham.

Heaven secure him'

So be it.

Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.

But you'll be secret,

Hor. Mar.

Ay, by heaven, my lord. Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all DenBut he's an arrant knave. [mark, Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the To tell us this. [grave, Why, right; you are in the right: without more circumstance at all,

Ham. And so, I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part: You, as your business, and desire, shall point you ;For every man hath business, and desire, Such as it is,--and for my own poor part, Look you, I will go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, 'Faith, heartily.

Hor.

There's no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, then let me tell you; For your desire to know what is between us, O'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.

Hor.

What is 't, my lord?

We will.
[night.
Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-
Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not.
Nay, but swear't

Ham.

Hor.

In faith,

We have sworn, my lord, already. Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny?

Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage,
Consent to swear.

Hor.

Propose the oath, my lord.

Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword.

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground: Come, hither, gentlemen,

And lay your hands again upon my sword:
Swear by my sword,

Never to speak of this that you have heard.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword.

Ham Well said, old mole ! can'st work i' the earth

To put an antic disposition on.-
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, Well, well, we know ;-or, We could, and if we
would; or, If we list to speak ;-or, There be, an if
they might ;—

Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me :-This do you swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you'
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you:
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint;-O cursed spite!
That ever I was born to set it right!
Nay, come, let's go together.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good ReyBefore you visit him, to make inquiry Of his behaviour. Rey. My lord, I did intend it. Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look you, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; [sir, And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding, By this encompassment and drift of question, That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it: Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; As thus,-I know his father, and his friends, And, in part, him ;—Do you mark this, Reynaldo? Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not well: But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; Addicted so and so ;-and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank As may dishonour him; take heed of that; But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips, As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord. Pol. Ay,or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing:-You may go so far.

Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.

Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.
You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency;

That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so
That they may seem the taints of liberty: [quaintly,
The flash and out-break of a fiery mind;
A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
Of general assault.

Rey.
But, my good lord,
Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
Rey.