If Circumstances leade me, I will finde
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede
Within the Center
King. How may we try it further?
Pol. You know sometimes
He walkes foure houres together, heere
In the Lobby
Qu. So he ha's indeed
Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,
Be you and I behinde an Arras then,
Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,
And be not from his reason falne thereon;
Let me be no Assistant for a State,
And keepe a Farme and Carters
King. We will try it.
Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.
Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch
Comes reading
Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,
Ile boord him presently.
Exit King & Queen.
Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, God-a-mercy
Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?
Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger
Pol. Not I my Lord
Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man
Pol. Honest, my Lord?
Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee
one man pick'd out of two thousand
Pol. That's very true, my Lord
Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kissing Carrion-
Haue you a daughter?
Pol. I haue my Lord
Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a
blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend
looke too't
Pol. How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter:
yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger:
he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,
I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile
speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?
Ham. Words, words, words
Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?
Ham. Betweene who?
Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord
Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,
that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I
most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it
not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your
selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
go backward
Pol. Though this be madnesse,
Yet there is Method in't: will you walke
Out of the ayre my Lord?
Ham. Into my Graue?
Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:
How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?
A happinesse,
That often Madnesse hits on,
Which Reason and Sanitie could not
So prosperously be deliuer'd of.
I will leaue him,
And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting
Betweene him, and my daughter.
My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly
Take my leaue of you
Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I
will more willingly part withall, except my life, my
life
Polon. Fare you well my Lord
Ham. These tedious old fooles
Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there
hee is.
Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.
Rosin. God saue you Sir
Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?
Rosin. My most deare Lord?
Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou
Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye
both?
Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth
Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes
Cap, we are not the very Button
Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?
Rosin. Neither my Lord
Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle
of her fauour?
Guil. Faith, her priuates, we
Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:
she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?
Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne
honest
Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is
not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue
you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,
that she sends you to Prison hither?
Guil. Prison, my Lord?
Ham. Denmark's a Prison
Rosin. Then is the World one
Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,
Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'
worst
Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord
Ham. Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is
a prison
Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis
too narrow for your minde
Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that
I haue bad dreames
Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the
very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow
of a Dreame
Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow
Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and
light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow
Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs
and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:
shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?
Both. Wee'l wait vpon you
Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the
rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest
man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten
way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?
Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion
Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;
but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks
are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it
your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake
Guil. What should we say my Lord?
Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were
sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;
which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,
I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you
Rosin. To what end my Lord?
Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure
you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,
and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge
you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you
were sent for or no
Rosin. What say you?
Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me
hold not off
Guil. My Lord, we were sent for
Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and
Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore
I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;
and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;
that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill
Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,
look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing
to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in
Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing
how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?
in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the
world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is
this Quintessence of Dust? Man delights not me; no,
nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme
to say so
Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my
thoughts
Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights
not me?
Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,
what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue
from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are
they comming to offer you Seruice
Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his
Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous
Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall
not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in
peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs
are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde
freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players
are they?
Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in
the Tragedians of the City
Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence
both in reputation and profit was better both
wayes
Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes
of the late Innouation?
Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?
Rosin. No indeed, they are not
Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?
Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted
pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little
Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and
are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the
fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they
call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of
Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither
Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?
How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no
longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards
if they should grow themselues to common Players (as
it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers
do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their
owne Succession
Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides:
and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie.
There was for a while, no mony bid for argument,
vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in
the Question
Ham. Is't possible?
Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of
Braines
Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?
Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too
Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of
Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him
while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred
Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something
in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could
finde it out.
Flourish for the Players.
Guil. There are the Players
Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your
hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion
and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,
lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew
fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment
then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father,
and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd
Guil. In what my deere Lord?
Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the
Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen
Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each
eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet
out of his swathing clouts
Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for
they say, an old man is twice a childe
Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the
Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning
'twas so indeed
Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you
Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.
When Rossius an Actor in Rome-
Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord
Ham. Buzze, buzze
Pol. Vpon mine Honor
Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-
Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie,
Comedie, Historie, Pastorall:
Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Scene indiuidible: or Poem
vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus
too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are
the onely men
Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st
thou?
Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?
Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,
The which he loued passing well
Pol. Still on my Daughter
Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?
Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter
that I loue passing well
Ham. Nay that followes not
Polon. What followes then, my Lord?
Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It
came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the
Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my
Abridgements come.
Enter foure or fiue Players.
Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see
thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend?
Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to
beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris?
Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when
I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God
your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd
within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne
to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l
haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:
come, a passionate speech
1.Play. What speech, my Lord?
Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I
remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the
Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose
iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an
excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe
with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said,
there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory;
nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the
Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One
cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale
to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks
of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at
this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like
th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus
The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes
Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,
Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd
With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote
Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd
With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous, and damned light
To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Olde Grandsire Priam seekes
Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,
and good discretion
1.Player. Anon he findes him,
Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,
Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles
Repugnant to command: vnequall match,
Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:
But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,
Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,
Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top
Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword
Which was declining on the Milkie head
Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:
So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often see against some storme,
A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,
The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below
As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,
A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,
With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword
Now falles on Priam.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,
In generall Synod take away her power:
Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,
And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,
As low as to the Fiends
Pol. This is too long
Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee
say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee
sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba
1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen
Ham. The inobled Queene?
Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good
1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,
Threatning the flame
With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,
A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.
Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,
'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselues did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,
The instant Burst of Clamour that she made
(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)
Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,
And passion in the Gods
Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and
ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more
Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest,
soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.
Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are
the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After
your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then
their ill report while you liued
Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart
Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man
after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse
them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they
deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
in
Pol. Come sirs.
Exit Polon.
Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.
Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago?
Play. I my Lord
Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a
need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which
I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?
Play. I my Lord
Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night
you are welcome to Elsonower?
Rosin. Good my Lord.
Exeunt.
Manet Hamlet.
Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?
Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,
But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,
Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his visage warm'd;
Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,
A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting
With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?
For Hecuba?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,
Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion
That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake
Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whose property, and most deere life,
A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?
Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?
Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?
Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,
As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall
To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,
I should haue fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,
Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!
Oh Vengeance!
Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,
That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,
Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,
Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,
And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.
A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.
I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,
Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,
Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently
They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake
With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,
Play something like the murder of my Father,
Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,
Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench
I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power
T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,
As he is very potent with such Spirits,
Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds
More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.
Exit
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildenstern, and
Lords.
King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:
Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy
Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,
But from what cause he will by no meanes speake
Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true state
Qu. Did he receiue you well?
Rosin. Most like a Gentleman
Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition
Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands
Most free in his reply
Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?
Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players
We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,
And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy
To heare of it: They are about the Court,
And (as I thinke) they haue already order
This night to play before him
Pol. 'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties
To heare, and see the matter
King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on
To these delights
Rosin. We shall my Lord.
Exeunt.
King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,
For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)
Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene
We may of their encounter frankely iudge,
And gather by him, as he is behaued,
If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.
That thus he suffers for
Qu. I shall obey you,
And for your part Ophelia, I do wish
That your good Beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe,
To both your Honors
Ophe. Madam, I wish it may
Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye
We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,
'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,
And pious Action, we do surge o're
The diuell himselfe
King. Oh 'tis true:
How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?
The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art
Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,
Then is my deede, to my most painted word.
Oh heauie burthen!
Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred
Ophe. Good my Lord,
How does your Honor for this many a day?
Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well
Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,
That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.
I pray you now, receiue them
Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought
Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:
Take these againe, for to the Noble minde
Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.
There my Lord
Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?
Ophe. My Lord
Ham. Are you faire?
Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?
Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty
should admit no discourse to your Beautie
Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce
then your Honestie?
Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner
transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the
force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse.
This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it
proofe. I did loue you once
Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so
Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue
cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish
of it. I loued you not
Ophe. I was the more deceiued