Queen.
So he does indeed.

Pol.
At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
Be you and I behind an arras then;
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
And he not from his reason fall'n thereon
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm and carters.

King.
We will try it.

Queen.
But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Pol.
Away, I do beseech you, both away
I'll board him presently:--O, give me leave.

[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.]

[Enter Hamlet, reading.]

How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham.
Well, God-a-mercy.