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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof

 Mad let us grant him then: and now remains Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, And makes as healthful music: it is not madness For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. And I the matter will re-word; which madness Was not like madness. There's something in his soul This mad young man. But so much was our love His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. His flight was madness: when our actions do not, This mad young man. But so much was our love And I the matter will re-word; which madness But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof 'Twill not he seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he. For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err;