Ros. Neither, my lord.
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle[780]
of her favours?[781]
Guil. Faith, her privates we.[782] 230
Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O, most true;
she is a strumpet. What's the news?[783]
Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.[784]
Ham. Then is doomsday near: but your news is not[785]
true. Let me question more in particular: what have you,[786] 235
my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that she[786]
sends you to prison hither?[786]
Guil. Prison, my lord![786]
Ham. Denmark's a prison.[786]
Ros. Then is the world one.[786] 240
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines,[786]
wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.[786][787]