Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more: I loved your father, and we love ourself; And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine⁠—

Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the queen.

Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not: They were given me by Claudio; he received them Of him that brought them.

Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us. Exit Messenger .

Reads.