Ham. Now, Mother, what's the Matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou haft thy Father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my Father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you anfwer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you queftion with an idle tongue.
Queen. Why how now, Hamlet?
Ham. What's the matter now ?
Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham. No, by the Rood, not fo;
You are the Queen, your Husband's Brother's Wife,
But would you were not fo. You are my Mother.
Queen. Nay, then I'll fet thofe to you that can speak.
Ham. Come, come, and fit you down, you fhall not
budge:
You go not 'till I fet you up a Glafs,
Where you may fee the inmoft part of you?
Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me? Help, help, ho.
Pol. What ho, help, help, help.
Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead.
Pol. Oh I am flain.
Queen. Oh me, what haft thou done?
Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?
Queen. Oh, 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'd a King?
Ham. Ay Lady, was my word.
Thou wretched, rafh, intruding Fool, farewel,
I took thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,
Thou find'ft to be too bufie, is fome danger.
Leave wringing of your hands, peace, fit you!
And let me wring your heart, for fo I fhall
If it be made of penetrable stuff;
If damned Cuftom have not braz'd it so,
That it is proof and bulwark against Senfe.
Queen. What have I done, that thou dareft wag thy tongue
In noife fo rude against me?
Ham. Such an A&,
That blurs the Grace and blush of Modefty,
Calls Virtue Hypocrite, takes off the Rofe
From the fair Fore-head of an innocent love,
And makes a blifter there; makes Marriage vows
As falfe as Dicers Oaths. O iuch a Deed,
As from the Body of contraction plucks
The very Soul, and fweet Religion makes
A rhapfody of words. Heav'n's Face doth glow,
Yea, this folidity and compound mafs,
With triftful vifage as against the doom,
Is thought-fick at the act.
Queen. Ay me, what act,
That roars fo loud, and thunders in the Index?
Ham. Look here upon this Picture, and on this,
The counterfeit prefentment of two Brothers:
See what a Grace was feated on his Brow,
Hyperion's Curles, the front of Jove himself,
An Eye like Mars, to threaten or command,
A Station like the Herald Mercury
Now lighted on a Heav'n kiffing Hill;
A Combination, and a form indeed,
Where every God did feem to fet his Seal,
To give the World' affurance of a Man'.
This was your Husband. Look you now what follows.
Here is your Husband, like a Mildew'd Ear,
Blafting his wholefome Brother. Have you Eyes?
Could you on this fair Mountain leave to feed,
And batten on his Moore? 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 ftep from this to this? What Devil was't,
That thus hath cozen'd you at Hoodman-blind?
O Shame! where is thy blush ? Rebellious Hell,
If chou canft mutiny in a Matron's Bones,
To flaming youth, let Virtue be as Wax,
And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no fhame,"
When the compulfive Ardure gives the charge,
Since Froft it felf as actively doth burn,
As Reafon panders Will.
Queen. O Hamlet, speak no moře.
Thou turd'st mine Eyes into my very Soul,
A a 2
And there I fee fuch black and grained fpots,
As will not leave their Tin&t.
Ham. Nay, but to live
In the rank fweat of an incestuous Bed,
Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making love
Over the nafty Sty.
Queen. Oh fpeak to me no more,
Thefe words like Daggers enter in mine Ears.
No more, fweet Hamlet.
Ham. A Murderer, and a Villain!
A Slave, that is not twentieth part, the ythe
Of your precedent Lord. A vice of Ki
85
A Cutpurfe of the Empire and the Rule,
That from a fhelf, the precious Diaden ftole,
And put it in his Pocket.
Ham. A King of threds and patches
Save me! and hover o'er me with your Wings [Starting up.
You Heav'nly Guards! What would you, gracious figure?
Queen. Alas he's mad.
Ham. Do you not come your tardy Son to chide,
That laps'd in Time and Paffion, lets go by
Th' importing acting of your dread command? Oh fay.
Ghoft. Do not forget: this Vifitation
Is but to whet thy almoft blunted purpose.
But look! Amazement on thy Mother fits;
Oftep between her, and her fighting Soul,
Conceit in weakeft Bodies, ftrongest 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 the Corporal Air do hold difcourfe.
Forth at your Eyes, your Spirits wildly peep,
And as the fleeping Soldiers in' th' Alarm,
Your Bedded Hairs, like life in Excrements,
Start up, and ftand an end. O gentle Son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy Diftemper.
Sprinkle cool Patience. Whereon do you look?
Ham. On him! on him!-look you how pale he glares p
His form and caufe conjoin'd, preaching to Stones,
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me,
Left with this pitious action you convert
My ftern 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 fee nothing there?
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 even now out at the Portal.
Queen. This is the very Coinage of your brain,
This bodilefs Creation ecftafie is very cunning in.
Ham. Ecftafie?
My Pulfe, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful Mufick. It is not madness
That I have uttered; bring me to the Teft
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gamboll from. Mother, for love of Grace,
Lay not a flatteri g Unction to your Soul,
That not your trefpafs, but my madness speaks:
It will but skin and film the Ulcerous place,
Whift rank Corruption running all within,
Infects unfeen. Confefs your felf to Heav'n,
Repent what's paft, avoid what is to come,
And do not spread the Compoft on the Weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my Virtue,
For in the fatnefs of thefe purfie times,
Virtue it felf, of Vice mult pardon beg,
Yea, curb, and wooe, for leave to do him good.
Queen. Oh, Hamlet! thou haft cleft my H art in t vair
Ham. O throw away the worfer part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good Night; but go not to mine Uncle's Bed,
Affume a Virtue, if you have it not.
That Monster Cuftom, who all Sense doth cat
Of Habit's Devil, is Angel yet in this;
That to the ufe of Actions fair and good,
He likewife gives a Frock or Livery
That aptly is put on: refrain to Night,
And that shall lend a kind of eafinefs
To the next Abftinence, the next more
For ufe can almoft change the ftamp of Nature
And mafter the Devil, or throw him out
With wondrous Potency. Once more, good Night;
And when you are defirous to be bleft,
I'll bleffing beg of you. For this fame Lord, [Pointing to Pol.
I do repent: but Heav'n hath pleas'd it fo,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their Scourge and Minifter.
I will beftow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him; fo again, good Night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
Queen. What fhall I do?
Ham. Not this by no means that I bid you do,
Let the blunt King tempt you again to Bed,
Pinch Wanton on your cheek, call you his Moufe,
And let him for a pair of reechy kiffes,
Or padling in your Neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I effentially am not in madness,
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 Bat, a Gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? Who would do fo?
No, in defpight of Senfe and Secrecy,
Unpeg the Basket on the Houfes top,
Let the Birds fly, and like the famous Ape,
To try conclufions, in the Basket creep,
And break your own Neck down.
Queen. Be thou affur'd, if words be made of Breath, And breathe of Life: I have no Life to breathe
What thou haft faid to me.
Ham. I must to England, you know that?
Queen. Alack, I had forgot; 'Tis fo concluded on.
Ham. This Man fhall fet me packing;
I'll lug the Guts into the Neighbour Room;
Mother, good Night. Indeed this Counsellor
Is now moft ftill, moft fecret, and moft grave,
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