HAMLET.
No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i’ th’ world.
KING.
What do you call the play?
HAMLET.
The Mousetrap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the Duke’s name, his wife Baptista: you shall see anon; ’tis a knavish piece of work: but what o’ that? Your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not. Let the gall’d jade wince; our withers are unwrung.
Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.
OPHELIA.
You are a good chorus, my lord.
HAMLET.
I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying.
OPHELIA.
You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
HAMLET.
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
OPHELIA.
Still better, and worse.