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What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me?

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; 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!

How now! a rat?

[Draws. Dead, for a ducat, dead.

[HAMLET makes a pass through the Arras. Pol. [Behind.) O, I ain slain.

[Falls, and dies, Queen. O me, what hast thou done? 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 ;-almost as bad, good mo

As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Queen. As kill a king !

Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

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Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell !

[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, That it be proof and bulwark against sense. Queen. What have I done, that thou dar’st wag

thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?

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 : 0, 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,
With tristful 8-visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.

Ah me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ?9

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow:

7 Marriage contract. 8 Sorrowful.

9 Index of contents prefixed to a book. VOL. X.


Hyperion's' curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station2 like the herald Mercury,
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 fol-

lows :
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?

you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten 3 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,4 sure, you

have, Else, could you not have motion: But, sure, that


Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err ;
Nor sense to ecstasys 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 ?6
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans 7 all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
1 Apollo's.

2 The act of standing. 3 To grow fat. 4 Sensation, 5 Frenzy.

6 Blindman's-buff. 7 Without 8 Be so stupid.

O shame! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine 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 ;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.

O Hamlet, speak no more : Thou turn'st mine eyes


my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots,
As will not leave their tinct.9

Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed' bed;
Stew'd in corruption; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty stye ;-

O, speak to me no more ;
These words, like daggers enter in mine ears :
No more, sweet Hamlet.

A murderer, and a villain: A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent lord :-a vice 2 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.

A king

Of shreds and patches :-
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,

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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, 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.
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?

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,


and stands on 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.5Do not look upon me; Lest, with this piteous action, you convert My stern effects: then what I have to do

3 Imagination. 4 The hair of animals is excrementitious, that is, without

life or sensation. s Intelligent.

6 Actions.


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