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 'glafs 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. [Hamlet makes a pass through the arras. Pol. [behind.] O, I am slain. [falls, and dies. 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; mother, almost as bad, good '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! [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 have not braz'd it so," In noise so rude against me? Ham. Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; From the fair forehead of an innocent love, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Queen. Ah 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. New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A what follows: Look you now, Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, eyes? Have you 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 bumble, And waits upon the judgment; And what judg ment 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; What devil That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman - blind?' O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame, 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 styę; Queen. O, speak to me no more; These words like daggers enter in mine ears; No more, sweet Hamlet. Ham. A murderer, and a villainin A slave that is not twentieth part the tythe That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, Ham. A king of shreds and patches:Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards! gracious figure? Queen. Alas, he's mad. What would your 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? O, say! Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. Ham, How is it with you, lady? That you do bend your eye on vacancy, Ham. On him! on him! pale he glares!. Look you, how His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. upon me; Do not look, Lest, with this piteous action, you convert Queen. To whom do you speak this? Queen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I see.. Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves. ? Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals away! My father, in his babit as he liv'd! Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! [Exit Ghost. coinage of your My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful musick: It is not mad nefs, That I have utter'd: bring me to the test, Infects |