“Excellent well. You're a fishmonger.
Polonius. Not I, my lord. HAMLET. Then I would you were so honest a man. Polonius. Honest, my lord? HAMLET. Ay sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Polonius. That's very true, my lord. HAMLET. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion,— Have you a daughter? Polonius. I have, my lord. HAMLET. Let her not walk i' th' sun.”