Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke.
Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your self a Baby,
[Sidenote: I will]
That you haue tane his tenders for true pay, [Sidenote: tane these]
Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly;
[Sidenote: sterling]
Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,
[Sidenote: (not … &c.]
Roaming it[3] thus, you'l tender me a foole.[4]
[Sidenote: Wrong it thus]
Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue, In honourable fashion.
Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too.
Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech, My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen. [Sidenote: with almost all the holy vowes of]
[Footnote 1: There had then been a good deal of intercourse between
Hamlet and Ophelia: she had heartily encouraged him.]
[Footnote 2: 'as so I am informed, and that by way of caution,']
[Footnote 3: —making it, 'the poor phrase' tenders, gallop wildly about—as one might roam a horse; larking it.]
[Footnote 4: 'you will in your own person present me a fool.']
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