Hamlet
I mean, my head upon your lap?
Ophelia
Ay, my lord.
Hamlet
Do you think I meant country matters?
Ophelia
I think nothing, my lord.
Hamlet
That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.
Ophelia
What is, my lord?
Hamlet
Nothing.
Ophelia
You are merry, my lord.
Hamlet
Who, I?
Ophelia
Ay, my lord.
Hamlet
O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.
Ophelia
Nay, ’tis twice two months, my lord.