POLONIUS. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, ’tis true: ’tis true ’tis pity; And pity ’tis ’tis true. A foolish figure, But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him then. And now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause. Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend, I have a daughter—have whilst she is mine— Who in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. [_Reads._] _To the celestial, and my soul’s idol, the most beautified Ophelia_— That’s an ill phrase, a vile phrase; ‘beautified’ is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. [_Reads._] _these; in her excellent white bosom, these, &c._