For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, For nature, crescent, does not grow alone HAMLET. Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; O, fear me not. Laer. my I stay too long:-but here father comes. Pol. [Enter Polonius R. [Laertes kneels. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of sail, your And you are stayed for. There, my blessing with you! [Laying his hand on Laertes' head. And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. "T is in my memory locked, Oph. And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Farewell. Laer. Pol. [Rises. [Exit Laertes What is 't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. Marry, well bethought: Pol. 'T is told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous : And that in way of caution), I must tell you, Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders HAMLET. Pol. Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, 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 you 'll tender me a fool. Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, Lends the tongue vows. This is for all, Have I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt Polonius and Ophelia R DIM STARLIGHT. Scene Third.-THE PLATFORM. [Enter Hamlet and Horatio, to Marcellus, who is on guard. Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets: ordnance shot off, within What does this mean, my lord ? Hamlet. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, Is it a custom ? Ay, marry, is 't: Horatio. Hamlet. But to my mind,—though I am native here, More honoured in the breach than the observance. |