Act II. Scene II. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Craig, W.J., ed. 1914. The Oxford Shakespeare [bartleby.com]

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.	212
Ros. [To POLONIUS.] God save you, sir! [Exit POLONIUS.
Guil. Mine honoured lord!
Ros. My most dear lord!
Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?	216
Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guil. Happy in that we are not over happy;
On Fortune’s cap we are not the very button.
Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?	220
Ros. Neither, my lord.
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
Guil. Faith, her privates we.
Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true; she is a strumpet. What news?	224
Ros. None, my lord, but that the world’s grown honest.
Ham. 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?
Guil. Prison, my lord!
Ham. Denmark’s a prison.	228
Ros. Then is the world one.
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o’ the worst.
Ros We think not so, my lord.
Ham. 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.	232
Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; ’tis too narrow for your mind.
Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.	236
Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow’s shadow.
Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars’ shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
Ros. & Guil. We’ll wait upon you.
Ham. No such matter; I will not sort you with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?	240
Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.
Guil. What should we say, my lord?
Ham. Why anything, but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know the good king and queen have sent for you.	244