Rosencrantz Guildenstern
We will, my lord.
Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern .
Hamlet
What ho! Horatio!
Horatio
Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Hamlet
Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man
As e’er my conversation coped withal.
Horatio
O, my dear lord—
Hamlet
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter’d?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal’d thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that fortune’s buffets and rewards
Hast ta’en with equal thanks: and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,