“Do you know me, my lord?” said Polonius, still in the same coaxing tone.
The young Prince lifted his listless eyes from his book and surveyed the old man.
“Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.”
“Not I, my lord,” said Polonius, rather taken aback.
“Then I would you were so honest a man.”
“Honest, my lord?”
“Ay, sir! To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.”
“That’s very true, my lord,” Polonius was forced to agree. He had not come off very well in this first encounter of wits, but he resolved to make a further attempt. Hamlet had now returned to his book. “What do you read, my lord?”
“Words—words—words,” said the young Prince wearily.
“What is the matter, my lord?”