« PreviousContinue »
King. It likes us well ;
well-took labour : Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together; Most welcome home!. [Exeunt Volt. and Cor.
Pol. This business is well ended.
Queen. More matter, with less art.
To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified
These in her excellent white bosom, these, &c.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans : but that I love thee best, o most best, believe it. ' Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shewn me :
King. But how hath she
Pol. What do you think of me?
When I had seen this hot love on the wing
King. Do you think, 'tis this?
290 When it prov'd otherwise ?
King. Not that I know,
Pointing to his head and shoulder, If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
King. How may we try it further ?
together, Here in the lobby.
Queen. So he does, indeed.
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:: Be you
and I behind an arras then;
Enter HAMLET, reading.
reading. Pol. Away, I do beseech you,
away; I'll board him presently :-0, give me leave.- 310
[Exeunt King, and Queen. How does my good lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, god-a'-mercy.
know Ham. Excellent well; You are a fishmonger.
Pal. Not I, my lord.
me, my lord?
Is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand.
320 Pol. That's very true, my
lord. Ham. For if the sun breeds maggots in a dead dog, Being a god, kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?
Pol. I have, my lord.
Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing ; but not as your daughter may conceive: 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, far gone: and, truly, in my youth I suffer'd much extremity for love; very near this.-I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord ?
333 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 which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down ; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
346 Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in't.
[ Aside Will you walk out of the air, my lord?