---Have you a daughter?[27]

_Pol._ I have, my lord.

_Ham._ Let her not walk i'the sun: conception is a blessing; but as
your daughter may conceive,--friend, look to't, look to't, look to't.

[_Goes up stage._]

_Pol._ (_Aside._) Still harping on my daughter:--yet he knew me not
at first; he said I was a fishmonger.

[_Crosses to_ L.]

I'll speak to him again.--What do you read, my lord?

_Ham._ (C.) Words, words, words.

_Pol._ (L.) What is the matter, my lord?

_Ham._ Between who?

_Pol._ I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

_Ham._ Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue[28] says here that old
men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful
lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though
I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to
have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am,
if, like a crab, you could go backward.

[_Crosses_, L.]

_Pol._ (_Aside._) Though this be madness, yet there's method in it.
Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

_Ham._ Into my grave?

[_Crosses_ R.]

_Pol._ (L.) Indeed, that is out o' the air.--How pregnant sometimes
his replies[29] are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which
reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and
my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of
you.

_Ham._ (C.) You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more
willingly part withall, except my life, except my life, except my
life.

_Pol._ Fare you well, my lord.

[_Exit_ POLONIUS, L.H.]

_Ham._ These tedious old fools!

_Pol._ (_Without._) You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is.

_Ros._ Heaven save you, sir!

_Enter_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN (L.H.)

_Guil._ My honor'd lord!--

_Ros._ My most dear lord!--

_Ham._ My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern?

[_Crosses to_ ROSENCRANTZ.]

Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? What news?

_Ros._ (L.) None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

_Ham._ (C.) Then is dooms-day near: but your news is not true. In the
beaten way of friendship,[30] what make you at Elsinore?

_Ros._ To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

_Ham._ Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you.
Were you not se