A room in Polonius' house.
Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA
LAERTES
My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.
OPHELIA
Do you doubt that?
LAERTES
For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.
OPHELIA
No more but so?
LAERTES
Think it no more;
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place
May give his saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
OPHELIA
I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.
LAERTES
O, fear me not.
I stay too long: but here my father comes.
Enter POLONIUS
A double blessing is a double grace,
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
LORD POLONIUS
Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!
LAERTES
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
LORD POLONIUS
The time invites you; go; your servants tend.
LAERTES
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
What I have said to you.
OPHELIA
'Tis in my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
LAERTES
Farewell.
Exit
LORD POLONIUS
What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you?
OPHELIA
So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
LORD POLONIUS
Marry, well bethought:
'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:
If it be so, as so 'tis put on me,
And that in way of caution, I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly
As it behoves my daughter and your honour.
What is between you? give me up the truth.
OPHELIA
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
LORD POLONIUS
Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
OPHELIA
I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
LORD POLONIUS
Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool.
OPHELIA
My lord, he hath importuned me with love
In honourable fashion.
LORD POLONIUS
Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
OPHELIA
And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
LORD POLONIUS
Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
You must not take for fire. From this time
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young
And with a larger tether may he walk
Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
The better to beguile. This is for all:
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment leisure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.
OPHELIA
I shall obey, my lord.
Exeunt

At the house of Polonius, Laertes was taking advantage of his father's absence to discuss some delicate matters with his sister, Ophelia. He had been keeping an eye on her since his return from France.
"My luggage is already on board," Laertes said. "Farewell, and sister, whenever a ship is getting ready to sail make sure you have a letter for me."
"Can you doubt it?" Ophelia asked.
Laertes smiled as he looked at her. He loved her. He worried about her. He summoned the courage, or rather suppressed a niggling embarrassment, to broach the subject that had been troubling him.
"As for Hamlet and his interest in you, disregard him. It's nothing more than the flirtations that come with nature. Brief, not permanent. Sweet, but it will wither. The perfume of the season. No more."
"No more than that?"
"Think of it as nothing more than that. The natural curve of a man's development is not restricted to size and bulk. As the physical temple matures so do the inner responsibilities. Perhaps he loves you now, and his intentions are not to besmirch you, but bear in mind his future. His will is not his own, he will always follow the commitments of his birth. He cannot satisfy his cravings, like the common people. The safety and health of Denmark will depend on his decisions. Therefore his choice of wife must be taken after he has heard and considered the opinions of his subjects. So if he says he loves you, let your wisdom understand that he loves you only as much as a man in his position can. Can your honour sustain the loss if you pay too much heed to his serenades, if you fall in love with him, if you give him your virginity? Fear it, Ophelia. Fear it, my dear sister, and don't fall prey to desire. The modest girl lets only the moon appreciate her beauty. Virtue cannot defend itself against the calamity of gossip. Even the most beautiful of plants are killed by the frosts of spring. The liquid dew of youth is particularly vulnerable. The young are so inclined to rebel for no reason."
Ophelia paused to consider what her brother had told her.
"I take the gist of the lesson to heart. But, dear brother, don't be like an ungodly pastor showing me the steep and thorny path to Heaven while you yourself indulge in all the sins you now forbid, listen to your own cautions."
Laertes was taken aback by Ophelia's retort. He suddenly realised how mature his sister had become.
"Don't worry about me," he said, sounding rather hurt.
The exchange was in danger of turning bitter, but by luck their father, Polonius, entered the room.
"I've stayed too long," Laertes continued. "Here is father. A double blessing is a double grace. Farewell again, father."
"Yes, still here, Laertes? Get aboard, get aboard! The wind is perfect, and they are waiting for you! Here's my blessing and remember your father’s advice: Don't give a tongue to hasty thoughts, and never act in haste. Be friendly, but discerning. To those friends who have proved their loyalty grasp them to your soul with hoops of steel. But don't shake hands with every comedian who comes your way. Avoid starting a quarrel but once involved give everyone else second thoughts. Hear a lot, but say little. Listen to opinions, but reserve your judgement. Dress as well as your pocket permits, but avoid uncouth trends. Apparel announces the man. The French aristocracy are particularly select in this. Neither a borrower nor a lender be. A loan often loses the money and the friend. Borrowing dulls the edge of common sense. But above all else: to yourself be true. Then as sure as night follows day, you cannot be false to any other. Farewell. May my blessings help you fulfil your aims."
Laertes smiled, accustomed as he was to his elderly father's warnings.
"Most humbly I take my leave, my lord."
"Time moves on. Go, your servants are waiting."
"Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well what I have said to you."
"It's locked in my memory, and you yourself shall keep the key."
"Farewell."
When Laertes left, Polonius attempted to quiz Ophelia about what went on between the siblings before he entered the room.
"What did he say to you, Ophelia?"
"Respectfully, something regarding Prince Hamlet."
"Indeed. I've been thinking about Hamlet myself. I have been informed that lately you have been having private meetings with him. You have lavished very liberal amounts of time on him. If this is so - as I have been told by way of warning- I must tell you that you do not understand yourself as clearly as one who is my daughter should. What is between you? I want the truth."
"He has, my lord, lately showed his affection for me more frequently."
"Affection? Pooh, you speak like a naive girl, unschooled in such perilous business. Do you believe in his affection, as you call it?"
"I don't know what I should think, my lord."
"To be sure, I must teach you. Regard yourself as an immature filly having been taken in by these 'tenders of affection', clear counterfeits. Tender yourself more expensively or, for want of better verbal currency, you'll tender yourself a fool."
"My lord, he has courted me in an honourable fashion."
"Fashion! Passing fancy you can call it! This is nonsense!"
"He has confirmed his intentions with all the vows of Heaven."
"But snares for birds! When the blood burns, lavish promises come from the soul! The blaze gives off more light than heat, Ophelia, and when it comes to fulfilment, promises will douse the flames. From now on curtail your enthusiasm for meetings with Hamlet. Simply believe that he is young and can walk down roads barred to you. Don't believe his vows, they are not true indicators of his emotions but mere trumpets on behalf of his manly impulses - but sounding to you like saintly and pious promises. This is my last word on the matter. From now on I do not want you to squander your time talking to Hamlet. Clear? Now, come along."
Since Polonius was one of the most senior men of the Danish court, Ophelia and Hamlet had known each other since childhood, but he was several years older and had spent much of the past few years immersed in his intellectual interests in Germany so the sudden blossom of romance was unexpected and, given the Prince's grief, worrying- particularly to a political sort like Polonius.
"I shall obey, my lord."
Ophelia, chastised and embarrassed, wondered how she could obey this order.