ROSENCRANTZ.
None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
HAMLET.
Then is doomsday near; but your news is not true. Let me
question more in particular: what have you, my good friends,
deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison
hither?
GUILDENSTERN.
Prison, my lord!
HAMLET.
Denmark's a prison.
ROSENCRANTZ.
Then is the world one.
HAMLET.
A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and
dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.
ROSENCRANTZ.
We think not so, my lord.
HAMLET.
Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good
or bad but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.
