Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pol. Were nothing but to waste Night, Day and Time.
Pol. Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,
Pol. And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes,
Pol. I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad:
Pol. Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse,
Pol. What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.
Pol. But let that go.
Qu. Qu.
Qu. More matter, with lesse Art.
Pol. Pol.
Pol. Madam I sweare I vse no Art at all:
Pol. That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,
Pol. And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,
Pol. But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.
Pol. MaThe "a" here is only partially inked.d
Pol. The Tragedie of Hamlet.
Pol. Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines
Pol. That we finde out the cause of this effect,
Pol. Or rather say, the cause of this defect;
Pol. For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,