Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
Hor. O my dear lord.
Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter.
...for thou hast been
As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commeddled
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.
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