HAMLET.
No, good mother, here’s metal more attractive.
POLONIUS.
[To the King.] O ho! do you mark that?
HAMLET.
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at Ophelia’s feet.]
OPHELIA.
No, my lord.
HAMLET.
I mean, my head upon your lap?
OPHELIA.
Ay, my lord.
HAMLET.
Do you think I meant country matters?
OPHELIA.
I think nothing, my lord.
HAMLET.
That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.