And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?--
Marcellus?

Mar.
My good lord,--

Ham.
I am very glad to see you.--Good even, sir.--
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

Hor.
A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham.
I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do my ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hor.
My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Ham.
I prithee do not mock me, fellow-student.
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor.
Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.