POLONIUS.
What is the matter, my lord?
HAMLET.
Between who?
POLONIUS.
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
HAMLET.
Slanders, sir: for the satirical slave says here that old men
have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a
plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which,
sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it
not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir,
should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
POLONIUS.
[Aside.] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't. —
Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
HAMLET.
Into my grave?
