How say you, then; would heart of man once think it? But you’ll be secret?

There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he’s an arrant knave.

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.

Why, right; you are i’ the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desire shall point you; For every man has business and desire, Such as it is; and for mine own poor part, Look you, I’ll go pray.

I’m sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, ’faith heartily.