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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:38:01 GMT
REYNALDO
Very good, my lord.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:38:12 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I
about to say? By the mass, I was about to say
something: where did I leave?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:38:24 GMT
REYNALDO
At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,'
and 'gentleman.'
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:38:35 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry;
He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman;
I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,
Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
There falling out at tennis:' or perchance,
'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
See you now;
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlasses and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out:
So by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:38:46 GMT
REYNALDO
My lord, I have.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:00 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
God be wi' you; fare you well.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:12 GMT
REYNALDO
Good my lord!
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:24 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
Observe his inclination in yourself.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:36 GMT
REYNALDO
I shall, my lord.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:46 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
And let him ply his music.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:39:58 GMT
REYNALDO
Well, my lord.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:40:17 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
Farewell!
Exit REYNALDO
Enter OPHELIA
How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:40:31 GMT
OPHELIA
O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:40:41 GMT
LORD POLONIUS
With what, i' the name of God?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 17:40:55 GMT
OPHELIA
My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle;
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look so piteous in purport
As if he had been loosed out of hell
To speak of horrors,--he comes before me.
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