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Hamlet

Год написания книги
2016
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The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee!

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 545

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 550

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 555

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man,

And they in France of the best rank and station

Are most select and generous, chief in that. 560

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all- to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day, 565

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 570

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? 575

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. 580

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 behooves my daughter and your honour.

What is between you? Give me up the truth. 585

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? 590

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