But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: And they in France, of the best rank and station, For loan oft loses both itself and friend; Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants tend. Laer. Farewel, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, [Exit Laertes. And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewel. Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet. Pol. Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself teous: If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution,) I must tell you, Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. Pol. Affection? puh! you speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think. Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Oph. My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love, In honourable fashion. Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him, That he is young; [Exeunt. SCENE IV. THE PLATFORM. Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. Ham. What hour now? Hor. Mar. No, it is struck. I think, it lacks of twelve, Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord? Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up-spring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Hor. Ham. Ay, marry, is't: Is it a custom? But to my mind,-though I am native here, More honour'd in the breach, than the observance. Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations: They clepe us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our addition; and, indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute. That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, Shall in the general censure take corruption Doth all the noble substance often dout, To his own scandal. Hor. Enter Ghost. Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!— Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. Mar. Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. Hor. No, by no means. |