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That laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
Th’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.
Ham. How is it with you, lady?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you ?
That thus you bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep,
And as the sleeping soldiers in th’alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Start up, and stand an end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and Aame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do
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 on me,
Lest with this pitious action you convert
My stern effects ; then what I have to do,
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this ?
Ham. Do you see nothing there? [Pointing to the Ghost.
Queen. Nothing at all, yet all that is I fee.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear ?
Queen. No, nothing but our felves.
Ham. Why look you there? look how it steals away!
My father in his habit as he lived!
Look where he goes ev'n now out at the portal. (Exit Ghost.
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain,
This bodiless: création Ecstasie
Is very cunning in.
Ham. What ecstasie?
My pulse, as yours, doth temprately keep time,
And makes as healthful musick. 'Tis not madness
That I have utter'd; bring me to the test
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gamboll from. . Mother, for love of
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks :
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption 'runding all within,
Infects unseen. Confess your self to heav'n,
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come,
And do not spread the compost on the weeds
To make them ranker. Forgive this my virtue,
For in the fatness of these pursie times,
Virtue it self of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, curb, and wooe, for leave to do it good.
Queen. Oh Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
Ham. O throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night; but go not to mine uncle's bed.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this;
That to the use of actions fair and good,
He likewise gives a frock or livery
That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence; the next more easie;
For use can almost change the stamp of nature,
And master ev’n the devil, or throw him our
With i mining, edit. prim.'
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night!
And when you are desirous to be blest,
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, [Pointing to Pol.
I do repent: but heav'n hach pleas'd it so,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him; so again, good night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
Queen. What shall I do?
Ham. Not this by no means that I bid you do.
+ Let the fond King tempt you again to bed,
Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse,
And let him for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or padling in your neck with bis damad fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madoess,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know.
For who that's but a Queen, fair, fober, wife,
Would from a paddock, from a bar, a gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do fo?
No, in despight of sense and fecrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the houfe's top,
Let the birds Ay, and like the famous ape
To try conclusions; in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.
Queen. Be thou assur’d, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life: I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.
Ham. I must to England, you know that ?
Queen. Alack, I had forgot ; 'tis fo concluded on.
Ham. + In the old edition it is, Let the blote King - the word fignifies fond, o puff’d. up, or full-blooded, rubore fuffufus, Skinner.
+ Ham. There's letters seald, and my two school-fellows, (Whom I will trust as I will adders fang’d,) They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way And marshal me to knavery: let it work---For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar: an't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon. O'tis most sweet When in one line two crafts directly meet! This man shall set me packing; I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room; Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor Is now most still, moft secret, and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. Come, Sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night, mother. [Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius.
A Royal Apartment.
Enter King and Queen.
Here's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves
You must translate, 'tis fit we understand them.
T Where is
(night? Queen. Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to
King. What, Gertrude ? how does Hamlet ? Queen. Mad as the seas, and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier ; in his lawless fit,
Behind + The ten following verses are added out of tbe old edition.
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
He whips his rapier out, and cries, a rat!
And in his brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.
King. Oh heavy deed!
It had been so with us, had we been there:
His liberty is full of threats to all,
To you your self, to us, to every one.
Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answerd?
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;
But like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, lets it feed
Ev'n 'on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath killd,
O’er whom his very madness, like some ore
Among a mineral of metals base,
Shews it self pure.
He weeps for what is done.
King. Ob Gertrude, come away:
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance, and excuse. Ho! Guildenstern!
Enter Rofincrofle and Guildenstern.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid :
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's clofer hath he dragʻd him.
Go feek him out, speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chappel. Pray you haste in this. (Ex. Ros. and Guil.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends,