Hor. 
No, my good lord.

Ham.  Thy state is the more gracious; for ’tis a vice to know him.  He hath much land, and fertile:  let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king’s mess; ’tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.

Osr. 
Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should
impart a thing to you from his majesty.

Ham. 
I will receive it with all diligence of spirit.  Put your
bonnet to his right use; ’tis for the head.

Osr. 
I thank your lordship, t’is very hot.

Ham. 
No, believe me, ’tis very cold; the wind is northerly.

Osr. 
It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

Ham. 
Methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.

Osr.  Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—­as ’twere—­I cannot tell how.  But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head.  Sir, this is the matter,—­

Ham. 
I beseech you, remember,—­
[Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.]

Osr.  Nay, in good faith; for mine ease, in good faith.  Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing:  indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.

Ham.  Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;—­though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail.  But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.

Osr. 
Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

Ham. 
The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more
rawer breath?

Osr. 
Sir?

Hor. 
Is’t not possible to understand in another tongue?  You will do’t,
sir, really.

Ham. 
What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

Osr. 
Of Laertes?

Hor. 
His purse is empty already; all’s golden words are spent.

Ham. 
Of him, sir.

Osr. 
I know, you are not ignorant,—­

Ham. 
I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not
much approve me.—­Well, sir.

Osr. 
You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is,—­

Ham. 
I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in
excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.

Osr. 
I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on
him by them, in his meed he’s unfellowed.

Ham. 
What’s his weapon?