Laertes (cont.)
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King
Have you your father’s leave? What says Polonius?
Polonius
He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
By laboursome petition, and at last
Upon his will I seal’d my hard consent:
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—