Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?
Ophe. No my Lord.
Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?[5]
Ophe. I my Lord.[6]
Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country[7] matters?
Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord.
Ham. That's a faire thought to ly between Maids legs.
Ophe. What is my Lord?
Ham. Nothing.
Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?