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 slave 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 you yourself, sir,
should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
Pol.
[Aside.] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.
Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Ham.
Into my grave?
Pol.
Indeed, that is out o' the air. [Aside.] How pregnant sometimes
his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which
reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I
will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between
him and my daughter.My honourable lord, I will most humbly take
my leave of you.
Ham.
You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more
willingly part withal,except my life, except my life, except my
life.
Pol.
Fare you well, my lord.
Ham.
These tedious old fools!
[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
Pol.
You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.
Ros.