POLONIUS. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. [_Reads._] _Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans. But that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, HAMLET._ This in obedience hath my daughter show’d me; And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear.

KING. But how hath she receiv’d his love?

POLONIUS. What do you think of me?

KING. As of a man faithful and honourable.