The canker galls the infants of the spring

Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then, best safety lies in fear.

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

I shall th'effect of this good lesson keep

As watchman to my heart. But good my brother,

Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Whilst like a puff'd and reckless libertine

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own rede.

O, fear me not.

I stay too long. But here my father comes.

[Enter Polonius]

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame.

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay'd for. There, my blessing with you.

[Laying his hand on Laertes's head]

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts

                         no tongue,

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear't that th'opposed may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:

Take each man's censure, but reserve

                         thy judgement.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:

For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France of the best rank and station

Are of a most select and generous chief in that.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all: to thine own self be true;

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell: my blessing season this in thee.

Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

The time invites you; go, your servants tend.

Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well

What I have said to you.

'Tis in my memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Farewell.

[Exit]

What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

So please you, something touching

                         the Lord Hamlet.

Marry, well bethought:

'Tis told me he hath very oft of late

Given private time to you; and you yourself

Have of your audience been most free

                         and bounteous.

If it be so, – as so 'tis put on me,

And that in way of caution, – I must tell you

You do not understand yourself so clearly

As it behoves my daughter and your honour.

What is between you? Give me up the truth.

He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders

Of his affection to me.

Affection! Pooh! You speak like a green girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

Marry, I'll teach you; think yourself a baby;

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more

                         dearly;

Or, – not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,

Running it thus, – you'll tender me a fool.

My lord, he hath importun'd me with love

In honourable fashion.

Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.