Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come
Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?
Hor. What newes, my Lord?
Ham. Oh wonderfull!
Hor. Good my Lord tell it
Ham. No you'l reueale it
Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen
Mar. Nor I, my Lord
Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?
But you'l be secret?
Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord
Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke
But hee's an arrant knaue
Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the
Graue, to tell vs this
Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:
You, as your busines and desires shall point you:
For euery man ha's businesse and desire,
Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,
Looke you, Ile goe pray