Ophelia. The King rises.
Hamlet. What, frighted with false fire?
Queen. How fares my lord?
Polonius. Give o'er the play.
King. Give me some light. Away.
Polonius. Lights, lights, lights.
[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio]
Hamlet. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;
For some must watch while some must sleep,
Thus runs the world away.
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, if the rest of my
fortunes turn Turk with me, with two provincial roses on
my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players?
Horatio. Half a share.
Hamlet. A whole one, I.