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Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet !
Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? What's the matter now? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, Queen. Have you forgot me? And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? Ham. 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 judg ment
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;
Help, help, ho!
Pol. Behind. What, ho! help, help, help!
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall
If damned custom have not brass'd it so
In noise so rude against me?
Would step from this to this?
Sense, sure, you
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that
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 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? 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
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My father, in his habit as he liv'd;
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
For in the fatness of these pursy times
Ham. O throw away the worser part of it,
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
He likewise gives a frock or livery,
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 master the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:
I do repent: but heaven hath pleas'd it so,
Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
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
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
Ham. I must to England; you know that.
I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on. Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows,
Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.
Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging
Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Ah! my good lord, what have I seen to-night.
Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit,
King. O heavy deed! It had been so with us had we been there. His liberty is full of threats to all; To you yourself, to us, to every one. Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,
This mad young man: but so much was our love,
We would not understand what was most fit, 20
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; O'er whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base,
Shows itself pure: he weeps for what is done.
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch
Ham. That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son of a king?
Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
Ham. Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. Ros. I understand you not, my lord. Ham. I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.
Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. King. Where is Polonius?
Ham. In heaven; send thither to see if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. 40 King. To some Attendants. Go seek him there. Ham. He will stay till you come. Exeunt Attendants. King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,
Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence
With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
Good. King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. 50 Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
Ham. My mother: father and mother is man and wife, man and wife is one flesh, and so, my mother. Come, for England! Exit. King, Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard :
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night.
That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste. 60
Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught, As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us, thou may'st not coldly set Our sovereign process, which imports at full, By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 69 And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.
SCENE IV.-A Plain in Denmark. Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching.
For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras
Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, etc.
Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? Cap. They are of Norway, sir. Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? Cap. Against some part of Poland. Ham. Who commands them, sir? Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier?
Cap. Truly to speak, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground That hath in it no profit but the name. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd.
Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thou sand ducats
Will not debate the question of this straw: This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, etc. How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do 't, if they come to 't;
By Cock they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.
King. How long hath she been thus ?
Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good Exit. night, good night.
King. Follow her close; give her good watch,
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of When sorrows come, they come not single spies, Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia !
Oph. How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
But in battalions. First, her father slain;
For good Polonius' death; and we have done
Queen. Alas! sweet lady, what imports this In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia song?
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Last, and as much containing as all these,