Ophelia
Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day?
Hamlet
I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
Ophelia
My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver;
I pray you, now receive them.
Hamlet
No, not I;
I never gave you aught.
Ophelia
My honour’d lord, you know right well you did;
And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Hamlet
Ha, ha! are you honest?