Rosencrantz: My most dear lord.

Hamlet: My ex'llent good friends. How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz--good lads, how do ye both? But in the beaten way of freindship, what make you at Elsinore?

Rosencrantz: To visit you, my lord, no other occasion.

Hamlet: Were you not sent for? Is it you own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come. Nay speak.

Rosencrantz: What say you?

Hamlet: Nay then, I have an eye of you...I will tell you why. I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise; and indeed it goes heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory...

Hamlet: What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, 

Hamlet: in apprehension how like a god -- And yet to me what is this quintessence of dust? 

Hamlet: Man delights not me --

Hamlet: No, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Rosencrantz: My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts...if you delight not in man what Lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them on the way, and thither are they coming to offer you service.

Polonious: THe actors are come hither, my lord.

Hamlet: Buzz, buzz.

Polonious: The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastorical-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.

Hamlet: You're welcome masters, welcome all.

Hamlet: I am glad to see thee well.

Hamlet: O, my old friend! Thy face is valanced since I saw thee last. Come'st thou to beard me in Denmark?--What, my young lady and mistress. By'r Lady, your ladyship is nearer heaven than when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.

Hamlet: Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falc'ners, fly at anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. COme, give us a taste of your quality. COme, a passionate speech.

First Player: 'Anon he finds him,
Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command. Unequal match,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
Th'unnerved father falls, Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel his blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus's ear. For lo, his sword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seemed i'th'air to stick.
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

Hamlet: 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest soon. Can you play the murder of Gonzago? We'll ha't tomorrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and insert in't, could ye not?