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Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pro- To make oppression bitter; or, ere this,
nounc'd:

But if the gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs;
The instant burst of clamor that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all,)
Would have made milch the burning eye of heaven,
And passion in the gods.

Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his colour,
and has tears in's eyes. - Pr'ythee, no more!
Ham. 'Tis well! I'll have thee speak out the rest
of this soon. Good my lord, will you see the
players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be
well used; for they are the abstract, and brief
chronicles, of the time. After your death you were
better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while
you live.

Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their

desert.

Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better! Use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.

Take them in!

Pol. Come, sirs!

[Exit Polonius, with some of the Players. Ham. Follow him, friends! we'll hear a play tomorrow. Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the murder of Gonzago?

1 Play. Ay, my lord!

I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave;
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion!

Ilam. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down, insert in't? could

you not?

1 Play. Ay, my lord!

Ham. Very well!-Follow that lord, and look you mock him not! [Exit Player.] My good friends, [To Ros. and Guil. I'll leave you till night; you are welcome to Elsinore!

Ros. Good my lord!

Fye upon't! foh! About my brains! Humph! I have
heard,

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,
May be a devil; and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with such spirits,)
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative, than this. The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.[Erit

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you!-Now I am alone!
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working, all his visage wann'd;
Tears in his eyes, distraction iu's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Hath he the motive and the cue for passion,
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I,

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my canse,
And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property, and most dear life,
A dam'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i'the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?.
Ha!

Why, I should take it for it cannot be,

А С Т III.

SCENE I.

A room in the Castle. Enter King, Queen, POLONIUS, Ophelia, Rosencrant, and GUILDENstern.

King. And can you, by no drift of conference,
Get from him, why he puts on this confusion;
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted
But, from what cause he will by no means speak
Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded
But with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.

Queen. Did he receive you
well?
Ros. Most like a gentleman.
Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition.
Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
Most free in his reply.

Queen. Did you assay him
To any pastime?

Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told bi
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it. They are about the court;
And, as I think, they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. 'Tis most true:

And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties.

To hear and see the matter.

King. With all my heart; and it doth much cat

tent me

To hear him so inclin'd.

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose on to these delights.
Ros. We shall, my lord!

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenster
King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too:
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia.

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Her father, and myself (lawful espials,)
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
If't be the affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.

Queen. I shall obey you:

And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish,

That your good beauties be the happy cause

Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope, your virtues
Will bring him to his wonted way again,

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[Exit Queen.
Gracious, so please

- Read on this book!
[To Ophelia.

That show of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,
'Tis too much prov'd-that, with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.

King. 0, 'tis too true! how smart

A lash that speech doth give my conscience!
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word:
O heavy burden!

[Aside. Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord! [Exeunt King, and Polonius. Enter HAMLET.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question:-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;

And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd
As made the things more rich their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind,

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord!

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest?
Oph. My lord?

liam. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Iam. That if you be honest, and fair, you should admit no discourse to your beauty.

Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce, than with honesty?

Ham. Ay, truly! for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness; this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. Ham. You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.

Oph. I was the more deceived.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery; why would'st thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven! We are

to a nunnery! Where's your father? Oph. At home, my lord!

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him; that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell!

And, by opposing, end them? - To die, -to sleep,-arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir too, - 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, — to sleep; -
To sleep! perchance to dream;-ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,- puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. -Soft you, now!
The fair Ophelia :- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

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Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry; be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery; farewell! Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go! and quickly too! Farewell!

Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him!

Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to! I'll no more oft; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go! [Exit Hamlet.

Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's,eye,tongue,sword:
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form.
The observ'd of all observers! quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth,
Blasted with ecstacy. O, woe is me!

To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
Re-enter King and POLONIUS.
King. Love! his affections do not that way tend;

Sport and repose lock from me, day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy!
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

Ham. If she should break it now, - [To Ophelia.
P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here
a while!

My spirits grow `dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.

[Sleeps.

P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain;
And never come mischance between us twain! [Exit.
Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no
offence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no offence i'the world.

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. The mouse-trap, Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work. But what of that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

Enter LUCIANUS.

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
Oph. You are as good, as a chorus, my lord!
Ham. I could interpret between you and your love,
if I could see the puppets dallying.

Of Jove himself; and now reigns here

A very, very-peacock.

Hor. You might have rhymed.

Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word
for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?
Hor. Very well, my lord!

Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,-
Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Ah, ha!-Come, some music! come, the recorders.

For if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.--
Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Come, some music!

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with yo
Ham. Sir, a whole history.
Guil. The king, sir,-

Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?

Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distempered.
Ham. With drink, sir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer, to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to pati to this purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair. Ham. I am tame, sir!-pronounce! Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome!

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's com mandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, shall

Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my be the end of my business.
edge.

Oph. Still better, and worse.
Ham. So you mistake your husbands.-Begin, mur-
derer! leave thy damnable faces, and begin! Come!
-The croaking raven

Doth bellow for revenge.
Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time
agreeing;

Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord?

wit's

Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my diseased: but, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you say,

Ros. Then, thus she says: Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration.

Ham.O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! -But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart!

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed.

[Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears. Ham. He poisons him i'the garden for his estate. Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ-ther. Have you any further trade with us? ten in very choice Italian. You shall see anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

Oph. The king rises.

Ham. What! frighted with false fire!

Queen. How fares my lord?

Pol. Give o'er the play.

King. Give me some light: -away!
Pol. Lights, lights, lights!

Ros. My lord, you once did love me. Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do,surely, but bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? Ham. Ay, sir, but, While the grass grows,― proverb is something musty.

[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play: For some must watch, while some must sleep; Thus runs the world away.Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me,) with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fel-too lowship in a cry of players, sir?

Hor. Half a share.

Ham. A whole one, I.

For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was

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-the

Enter the Players, with recorders. 0, the recorders! let me see one! To withdra with you. Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a to? Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is

unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you!

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you!

Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord! Ham. 'Tis as easy, as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops!

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.

Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me: you would seem to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

Enter POLONIUS.

God bless you, sir!

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed!
Ilam. Methinks, it is like a weasel.

Pol. It is backed like a weasel.
Ham. Or like a whale.

Pol. Very like a whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by. They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

Pol. I will say so. [Exit Polonius. Ham. By and by is easily said.—Leave me, friends! [Exeunt Ros. Guil, Hor. etc 'Tis now the very witching time of night; When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes

out

Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do such business as the bitter day
Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!-
O, heart, lose not thy nature! let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom!

Let me be cruel, not unnatural!

I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words soever she be shent,

Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage!
For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
Ros. Guil. We will haste us.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him home:
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege!
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And, tell you what I know.
King. Thanks, dear my lord! [Exit Polonius.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven!
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder!-Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker, than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, —
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!·
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shote by justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above:
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?

To give them seals, never, my soul, consent! [Exit. Try what repentance can! What can it not?

SCENE III. -A room in the same.

Enter King, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.
King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his Innes.

Guil. We will ourselves provide :
Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep those many many bodies safe,
That life, and feed, upon your majesty.
Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind;
To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it: it is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,

Yet what can it, when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!-
All may be well!

[Retires and kneels

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't!-and so he goes to heaven!
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'd:
A villain kills my father; and, for that,
I, his sole sou, do this same villain send
To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all this crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven?
But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis 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 pleasures 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.

[Exit.

The King rises, and advances.
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit.

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SCENE IV. Another room in the same.
Enter Queen and POLONIUS.
Pol. 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 e'en here.
Pray you, be round with him!

Queen. I'll warrant you; Fear me not:

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withdraw, I hear him coming.
[Polonius hides himself.

Enter HAMLET.

As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; aud sweet religion makes
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face doth glow;
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
Queen. Ah me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Iam. 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!

Ham. Now, mother; what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
Ham. What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham. 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.
Ham. 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.

you eyes?

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 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,

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
Help, help, ho!

Pol. [Behind.] What, ho! help!
Ham. How now! a rat?

Dead, for a ducat, dead!

[Draws.

[Hamlet makes a pass through the arras.
Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain! [Falls, and dies.
Queen. O me, what hast thou done?
Ham. Nay, I know not:
Is it the king?

[Lifts up the arras, and draws forth Polonius.
Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Ham. A bloody deed; almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Queen. As kill a king!

Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word. Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! [To Polonius.

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 hath not braz'd it so,
That it be proof and bulwark against sense.

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.
Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed;

Stew'd in corruption; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty stye;-

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

Ham. A murderer, and a villain!
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;
Of your precedent lord!a vice of kings!
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!
Queen. No more!

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag Ham. A king

thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Iam. 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

Enter Ghost.

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 The important acting of your dread command?

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