Bid the players make haste.
Will you two help to hasten them?
We will, my lord.
Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN
What ho! Horatio!
Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
O, my dear lord,
Nay, do not think I flatter;
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revenue hast but thy good
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
my dear soul was mistress of her choice
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for
herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that fortune's buffets and
Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not
passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.Something
too much of this.
There is a play to-night before the king;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance
I have told thee of my father's death:
I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
Even with the very comment
of thy soul
Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned
ghost that we have seen,
And my imaginations are as foul
As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
mine eyes will rivet to his face,
And after we will both our judgments join
In censure of his seeming.
Well, my lord:
If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
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