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[Offstage] Hamlet, Lord Hamlet!
What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? Oh, here they come.
[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
And bear it to the chapel.
Do not believe it.
That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
Besides, to be demanded of a sponge, what replication
should be made by the son of a king?
Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best
service in the end. He keeps them like an apple in
the corner of his jaw — first mouthed, to be last swallowed.
When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing
you; and, sponge, you shall be dry again.
I understand you not, my lord.
I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a
My lord, you must tell us where the body is
and go with us to the king.
The body is with the king, but the king is not with
the body. The king is a thing ...
A thing, my lord?
Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after!