SCENE V.
Enter Hamlet reading.
Queen.
But, look, where, sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
Pol.
Away, I do beseech you, both away.
I'll board him presently.
[Exeunt King and Queen.
Oh, give me leave.—How does my good lord Hamlet?
-- 165 --
Ham.
Well, God o' mercy.
Pol.
Do you know me, my lord?
Ham.
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
Pol.
Not I, my lord?
Ham.
Then I would you were so honest a man.
Pol.
Honest, my lord?
Ham.
Ay, Sir; to be honest, as this world goes,
is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand.
Pol.
That's very true, my lord.
Ham.
6 note
For if the Sun breed maggots in a dead dog,
Being a God, kissing carrion—
Have you a daughter?
-- 166 --
Pol.
I have, my lord.
Ham.
Let her not walk i' th' Sun; conception is
a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive.
Friend, look to't.
&wlquo;Pol.
&wlquo;How say you by that? still harping on my daughter!—
&wlquo;Yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger.
&wlquo;He is far gone; and, truly, in my youth,
[Aside.
&wlquo;I suffer'd much extremity for love;
&wlquo;Very near this.—I'll speak to him again.
What do you read, my lord?
Ham.
Words, words, words.
Pol.
What is the matter, my lord?
Ham.
Between whom?
Pol.
I mean the matter that you read, my lord.
Ham.
7 note
Slanders, Sir: for the satyrical slave says
here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces
are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and
plumtree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of
wit; together with most weak hams. All which, Sir,
-- 167 --
tho' I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold
it not honestly to have it thus set down; for yourself,
Sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could
go backward.
Pol.
Though this be madness, yet there's method in't:
Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Ham.
Into my Grave.—
Pol.
Indeed, that is out o'th' air:—
&wlquo;How pregnant (sometimes) his replies are?
&wlquo;A happiness that often madness hits on,
&wlquo;Which sanity and reason could not be
&wlquo;So prosp'rously deliver'd of. I'll 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 any thing that
I will more willingly part withal, except my life.
Pol.
Fare you well, my lord.
Ham.
These tedious old fools!
Pol.
You go to seek lord Hamlet; there he is.
[Exit.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
