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That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is a
In her ercellent white bosom, these, &c.
Doubt thou, the stars are fire ; [Reads.
Doubt, that the sun doth move ;
But never doubt, I love.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, Hamlet.
given to mine ear.
But how hath she
What do you think of me?
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might
my dear majesty your queen here, think,
(1) Roundly, without reserve.
This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,
Do you think, 'tis this?
Not that I know.
(Pointing to his head and shoulder.
How may we try it further?
together, Here in the lobby. Queen.
So he does, indeed.
POL. TH Ham F
and I behind an arrast then;
We will try it
Have you a
Pol. Away, I do beseech you,
away; I'll board! him presently :-), give me leave.
(Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. How does my good lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy.
Ham. Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Pol. That's very true, my lord.
Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead
dog, being a god, kissing carrion,the daughter?
Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun : conceptionis a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive,3— friend, look to't.
Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.) Still harping on my daughter :—yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone,
gone : and truly, in my yonth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord ?
Ham. Words, words, words ! Pol. What is the matter, my lord ? Ham. Between who? Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir : for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that
they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set
(1) Accost. (2) Understanding.
down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. [.Aside.) Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Ham. Into my grave?
Pol. Indeed, that is out o'the air.—How preg. nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity? could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.—My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal ; except my life, except my life, except my life.
Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
[Èxit Polonius. Guil. My honour'd lord! Ros. My most dear lord !
Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do
ye both ? Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy : On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe Ros. Neither, my lord. Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
Guil. 'Faith, her privates we.
Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet.
What news? (1) Ready, apt.
(2) Soundness of mind.
Ros. None, my lord; but that the world is grown honest.
Ham. Then is doomsday near: But your news 18 not true, Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither.
Guil. Prison, my lord !
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst.
Ros. We think not so, my lord.
Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you: for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it 80: to me it is a prison.
Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one ; 'tis too narrow for your mind.
Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.
Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars' shadows: Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you.
Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants ; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully aitended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks ; but I thank you; and sure, dear friends,