1

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.

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder

me?

Help, help, ho!

Pol. [Behind.] What, ho! help!

Ham. How now! a rat?

Dead, for a ducat, dead.

730

[HAMLET strikes at POLONIUS through the Arras.

Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain.

Queen. O me, what hast thou done?

Ham. Nay, I know not:

Is it the king ?

Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Ham. A bloody deed; -almost as bad, good mo-

ther,

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, farewel!"

740

[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;

1

That it be proof and bulwark against, sense.

750

If damned custom have not braz'd it so,

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy

tongue

In noise so rude against me?
Ham. 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: Q, 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,

760

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?

Ham. 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,

770

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,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 780
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? 791
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 mutiny 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; 800

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 incestuous 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
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,

810

820

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, let's 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.

830

But,