He took my father grossly, full of bread,

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
"T is heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No!

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in 't ;

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.—

This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

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90

[Exit.

King. [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain be

low;

Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. The Queen's Closet.

Enter QUEEN and POLONIUS.

Polonius. He will come straight. Look you lay home to

him;

Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here.
Pray you, be round with him.

Hamlet. [Within] Mother! mother! mother!
Queen.

I'll warrant you;

Fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming.

[Polonius hides behind the arras.

Enter HAMLET.

Hamlet. Now, mother, what 's the matter?

Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Hamlet. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Hamlet. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet!

Hamlet.

Queen. Have you forgot me?
Hamlet.

10

What's the matter now?

No, by the rood, not so :

You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And-would it were not so!-you are my mother.

Queen. Nay, then, I 'll set those to you that can speak. Hamlet. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge:

You go not till I set you up a glass

Where you may see the inmost part of

you.

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me? Help, help, ho!

20

Polonius. [Behind] What, ho! help, help, help! Hamlet. [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, [Makes a pass through the arras.

dead!

Polonius. [Behind] O, I am slain !

Queen. O me, what hast thou done?

Hamlet.

Is it the king?

[Falls and dies.

Nay, I know not;

Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

Hamlet. A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,

As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Queen. As kill a king!

Hamlet.

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Ay, lady, 't was my word.—
[Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius.

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;

Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.

Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,

If it be made of penetrable stuff,

If damned custom have not braz'd it so

That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

Queen. What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Hamlet.
Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths; O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes

A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow,
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,

With tristful visage, as against the doom,

Is thought-sick at the act.

Queen.

Ay me, what act,

That roars so loud and thunders in the index?

Hamlet. Look here, upon this picture, and on this,

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;

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 follows:

Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,

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50

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 heli,
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
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,
And there I see such black and grained spots

O Hamlet, speak no more;

As will not leave their tinct.

Hamlet.

Stew'd in corruption,—

Queen.

Nay, but to live

O, speak to me no more;

These words like daggers enter in mine ears:

No more, sweet Hamlet!

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!

Hamlet. A king of shreds and patches,—

Enter Ghost.

Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,

You heavenly guards!-What would your gracious figure? Queen. Alas! he 's mad!

Hamlet. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by

The 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.

Hamlet.

How is it with you, lady?

Queen. Alas, how is 't with you,

That you do bend your eye on vacancy

And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands an end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

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120

Hamlet. 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