Hamlet. Macbeth / Гамлет. Макбет - стр. 20

O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans. But that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,

                                       Hamlet

This in obedience hath my daughter show'd me;

And more above, hath his solicitings,

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,

All given to mine ear.

But how hath she receiv'd his love?

What do you think of me?

As of a man faithful and honourable.

I would fain prove so. But what might you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing,

As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,

Before my daughter told me, what might you,

Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,

If I had play'd the desk or table-book,

Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,

Or look'd upon this love with idle sight,

What might you think? No, I went round to work,

And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: