Hor. Why, what a King is this?
Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon
He that hath kil'd my King, and whor'd my Mother,
Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes,
Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,
And with such coozenage; is't not perfect conscience,
To quit him with this arme? And is't not to be damn'd
To let this Canker of our nature come
In further euill
Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England
What is the issue of the businesse there
Ham. It will be short,
The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more
Then to say one: but I am very sorry good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot my selfe;
For by the image of my Cause, I see
The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours:
But sure the brauery of his griefe did put me
Into a Towring passion
Hor. Peace, who comes heere?
Enter young Osricke.
Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke
Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie?
Hor. No my good Lord
Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him: he hath much Land, and fertile; let a Beast be Lord of Beasts, and his Crib shall stand at the Kings Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession of dirt
Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure,
I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty
Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put
your Bonet to his right vse, 'tis for the head
Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot