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King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours Here in the lobby.

(together Queen. So he does indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him;
Be you and I behind an arras then,
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon,
Let me be no atbitant for a Itate,
But keep a farm and carters.
King. We will try it.

Enter HAMLET, reading.
Queen. But look where fadly the poor wretch

comes reading.
Pol. Away, I do bescech you, both away.
I'll board him presently. [Exeunt King and Queen.
Oh, give me leave.---- How does my good Lord

Hamlet ? Ham. Well, God o' mercy. Pol. Do you know me, my Lord? Ham. Excellent well; you are a filhmonger. Pol. Not I, my Lord, Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my Lord ?

Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my Lord.

Ham. For if the fun breed maggots in a deaddog, Being a good kissing carrion---Have you a daughter?

Pol. I have, my Lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i'th' fun; conception is a blefling, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.

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