ORPHELIA.
Madam, I wish it may.
[Exit Queen.]
POLONIUS.
Ophelia, walk you here. — Gracious, so please you,
We will bestow ourselves. — [To Ophelia.] Read on this book;
That show of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. — We are oft to blame in this, —
'Tis too much prov'd, — that with devotion's visage
And pious action we do sugar o'er
The Devil himself.
KING.
[Aside.] O, 'tis too true!
How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
Than is my deed to my most painted word:
O heavy burden!
POLONIUS.
I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and Polonius.]
[Enter Hamlet.]
