Friendship

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

From “Hamlet,” Act III. Sc. 2.

HAMLET.—Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man

As e’er my conversation coped withal.

HORATIO.—O my dear lord—
HAMLET.—Nay, do not think I flatter:

For what advancement may I hope from thee

That no revènue hast but thy good spirits,

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

And could of men distinguish, her election

Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been

As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,—

A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards

Hast ta’en with equal thanks; and blessed are those

Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,

That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger

To sound what stop she please: Give me that man

That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him

In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee.