_Ham._ Then sir, I would you were so honest a man,
For to be honest, as this age goes,
Is one man to be pickt out of tenne thousand.
_Cor._ What doe you reade my Lord?
_Ham._ Wordes, wordes.
_Cor._ What's the matter my Lord?
_Ham._ Betweene who?
_Car._ I meane the matter you reade my Lord.
_Ham._ Mary most vile heresie:
For here the Satyricall Satyre writes,
That olde men haue hollow eyes, weake backes,
Grey beardes, pittifull weake hammes, gowty legges,
All which sir, I most potently beleeue not:
For sir, your selfe shalbe olde as I am,
If like a Crabbe, you could goe backeward.
_Cor._ How pregnant his replies are, and full of wit:
Yet at first he tooke me for a fishmonger:
All this comes by loue, the vemencie of loue,
And when I was yong, I was very idle,
And suffered much extasie in loue, very neere this:
Will you walke out of the aire my Lord?
_Ham._ Into my graue. [E2v]
_Cor._ By the masse that's out of the aire indeed,
Very shrewd answers,
My lord I will take my leaue of you.
_Enter Gilderstone, and Rossencraft._
_Ham._ You can take nothing from me sir,
I will more willingly part with all,
Olde doating foole.
_Cor,_ You seeke Prince Hamlet, see, there he is. _exit._