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I would fain prove so. But what might you think,When I had seen this hot love on the wing--As I perceived it, I must tell you that,Before my daughter told me--what might you,Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,If I had play'd the desk or table-book,Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;What might you think? No, I went round to work,And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,That she should lock herself from his resort,Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;And he, repulsed--a short tale to make--Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,Into the madness wherein now he raves,And all we mourn for.