Then is the world one.
Ham.
A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and
dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.
Ros.
We think not so, my lord.
Ham.
Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good
or bad but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.
Ros.
Why, then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your
mind.
Ham.
O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a
king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Guil.
Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of
the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Ham.
A dream itself is but a shadow.
Ros.
Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that
it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham.
Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd
heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my
fay, I cannot reason.
Ros. and Guild.
We'll wait upon you.
Ham.
No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my
servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most
dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what
make you at Elsinore?
Ros.
To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Ham.
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: