it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my blessing season this in thee. 

 LAERTES. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. 

 POLONIUS. The time invites you; go, your servants tend. 

 LAERTES. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you. 

 OPHELIA. ’Tis in my memory lock’d, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 

 LAERTES. Farewell. 

 [Exit.] 

 POLONIUS. What is’t, Ophelia, he hath said to you? 

 OPHELIA. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. 

 POLONIUS. Marry, well bethought: ’Tis told me he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. If it be so,—as so ’tis put on me, And that in way of caution,—I must tell you You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behoves my daughter and your honour. What is between you? Give me up the truth. 

 OPHELIA. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. 

 POLONIUS. Affection! Pooh! You speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? 

 OPHELIA. I do not know, my lord, what I should think. 

 POLONIUS. Marry, I’ll teach you; think yourself a baby; That you have ta’en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or,—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Roaming it thus,—you’ll tender me a fool. 

 OPHELIA. My lord, he hath importun’d me with love In honourable fashion. 

 POLONIUS. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. 

 OPHELIA. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. 

 POLONIUS. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Even in their promise, as it is a-making, You must 

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