Laer. A Norman was't?
Kin. A Norman.
Laer. Vpon my life Lamound. [Sidenote: Lamord.]
Kin. The very same.
Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed, And Iemme of all our Nation, [Sidenote: all the Nation.]
Kin. Hee mad confession of you,
And gaue you such a Masterly report,
For Art and exercise in your defence;
And for your Rapier most especially, [Sidenote: especiall,]
That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed,[7]
If one could match you [A] Sir. This report of his
[Sidenote: ; sir this]
[Sidenote: 120, 264] Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy,[8]
That he could nothing doe but wish and begge,
Your sodaine comming ore to play with him;[9] [Sidenote: with you]
Now out of this.[10]
Laer. Why out of this, my Lord? [Sidenote: What out]
Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you? Or are you like the painting[11] of a sorrow, A face without a heart?
Laer. Why aske you this?
Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father, But that I know Loue is begun by Time[12]: