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A combination, and a form, indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband. Look you now, what fol-

Here is your husband ; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love ; for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
Would step from this to this ? [Sense, sure, you

have, Else, could you not have motion ; but, sure, that sense Is apoplex’d; for madness would not err, Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall’d, But it reserv'd some quantity of choice, To serve in such a difference.] What devil was't, That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind ? (Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope.] O shame! where is thy blush ? Rebellious Hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire : proclaim no shame, When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders, will. Queen.

O Hamlet! speak no more! Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul ; And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their tinct.


Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed ;
Stew'd in corruption ; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty stye;

O, speak to me no more!
These words like daggers enter in mine ears :
No more, sweet Hamlet.

A murtherer, and a villain ; A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord: - a vice of kings! A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket! Queen.

No more !

Enter Ghost.

Ham. A king of shreds and patches. Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards ! -- What would your gracious

figure Queen. Alas! he's mad.

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
Th’ important acting of your dread command ?
O, say!

Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look! amazement on thy mother sits :
O, step between her and her fighting soul;
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.

How is it with you, lady?
Queen Alas! how is't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse ?

Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Start up, and stand on end. O gentle son!
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look ?
Ham. On him, on him! - Look you, how pale he

glares !
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. — Do not look upon me;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects : then, what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood.

Queen. To whom do you speak this?

Do you see nothing there?
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?

No, nothing but ourselves. Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals

away! My father, in his habit as he liv'd! Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal ?

[Exit Ghost. Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in. Ham.

Ecstasy ! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep. time, And makes as healthful music. It is not madness, That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,

Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to Heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue ;
For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
Queen. 0 Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night; but go not to mine uncle's bed:
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
[That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's evil, is angel yet in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on.] Refrain to-night;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence : [the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either [curb] the Devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.] Once more, good night:
And when you are desirous to be bless’d,
I'll blessing beg of you.

For this same lord,

[Pointing to POLONIUS. I do repent: but Heaven hath pleas'd it so, To punish me with this, and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister. I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gave him. So, again, good night. I must be cruel, only to be kind : Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. [One word more, good lady.]


What shall I do? Ham. Not this, by no means,

that I bid you do: Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed ; Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse ; And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damn’d fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so ? No, in despite of sense, and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top, Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, To try conclusions in the basket creep, And break your own neck down. Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of

And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.

Ham. I must to England; you know that.

Alack !
I had forgot : ’tis so concluded on.
Ham. (There's letters seal’d, and my two school-

fellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fang’d, They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar : and it shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet. —] This man shall set me packing:

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