hamlet

Act 2 Scene 1

Polonius sends his servant Reynaldo to Paris to question Laertes’s acquaintances.

Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

I will, my lord.

You shall do marvelous wisely, good Reynaldo,

Before you visit him, to make inquire

Of his behavior.

My lord, I did intend it.

he sends Reynaldo to France as his undercover agent to spy on his son. He pays him as his servant, giving him the orders that he won't be able to disobey.

Act 2 Scene 1

polonius is describing what he wants reynaldo to do once he gets to paris

Ay, very well, my lord.

Act 2 Scene 1

Ophelia enters, deeply disturbed about a visit she has just had from an apparently mad Hamlet. Polonius decides that Hamlet has been made insane by Ophelia’s refusing to see him.

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced, No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled, Ungartered, and down-gyvèd to his ankle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosèd out of hell To speak of horrors—he comes before me.

Mad for thy love?

Act 2 Scene 1

Polonius sends his servant Reynaldo to Paris to question Laertes’s acquaintances.

Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

I will, my lord.

You shall do marvelous wisely, good Reynaldo,

Before you visit him, to make inquire

Of his behavior.

My lord, I did intend it.

he sends Reynaldo to France as his undercover agent to spy on his son. He pays him as his servant, giving him the orders that he won't be able to disobey.

Act 2 Scene 1

polonius is describing what he wants reynaldo to do once he gets to paris

Ay, very well, my lord.

Act 2 Scene 1

Ophelia enters, deeply disturbed about a visit she has just had from an apparently mad Hamlet. Polonius decides that Hamlet has been made insane by Ophelia’s refusing to see him.

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced, No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled, Ungartered, and down-gyvèd to his ankle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosèd out of hell To speak of horrors—he comes before me.

Mad for thy love?