The QUEEN'S Apartment. |
|
Enter QUEEN and POLONIUS. |
Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him; |
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, |
And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between |
Much heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here. |
Pray you, be round with him. |
Ham. [Within.] Mother, mother, mother! |
Queen. I'll warrant you; |
Fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming. POLONIUS hides behind the arras. |
|
Enter HAMLET. |
Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? |
Queen Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. |
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. |
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. |
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. |
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet! |
Ham. What's the matter now? |
Queen. Have you forgot me? |
Ham. 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! help! help! |
Ham. [Draws.] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead! [Makes a pass through the arras. |
Pol. [Behind.] O! I am slain. |
Queen O me! what hast thou done? |
Ham. Nay, I know not: is it the king? |
Queen. O! 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 a king! |
Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word. [Lifts up the arras and discovers POLONIUS. |
[To POLONIUS.] Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! |
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 brass'd it so |
That it is proof and bulwark against sense |
Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue |
In noise so rude against me? |
Ham. 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; O! 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 visage, as against the doom, |
Is thought-sick at the act. |
Queen. Ay 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. |
See, what a grace was seated on this brow; |
Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, |
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, |
A station 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 follows. |
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, |
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? |
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 humble, |
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment |
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, |
Nor sense to ecstasy 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? |
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, |
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, |
Or but a sickly part of one true sense |
Could not so mope. |
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, |
If thou canst mutine in 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. |
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 sty,— |
Queen. O! speak to me no more; |
These words like daggers enter in mine ears; |
No more, sweet Hamlet! |
Ham. A murderer, and a villain; |
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe |
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; |
A cut-purse of the empire and the rule, |
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, |
And put it in his pocket! |
Queen. No more! |
Ham. A king of shreds and patches,— |
|
Enter Ghost. |
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, |
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. |
Ham. 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 me; |
Lest with this piteous 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? |
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. |
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? |
Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. |
Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals away; |
My father, in his habit as he liv'd; |
Look! where he goes, even now, out at the portal. [Exit Ghost. |
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain: |
This bodiless creation ecstasy |
Is very cunning in. |
Ham. Ecstasy! |
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, |
And makes as healthful music. It is not madness |
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test, |
And I the matter will re-word, which madness |
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, |
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, |
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, |
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; |
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; |
And do not spread the compost on the weeds |
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; |
For in the fatness of these pursy times |
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, |
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. |
Queen. O 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 habits 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 easy; |
For use almost can change the stamp of nature, |
And master ev'n the devil or throw him out |
With wondrous potency. Once more, goodnight: |
And when you are desirous to be bless'd, |
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, [Pointing to POLONIUS. |
I do repent: but heaven hath 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. |
One word more, good lady. |
Queen. What shall I do? |
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 mouse; |
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, |
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, |
Make you to ravel all this matter out, |
That I essentially am not in madness, |
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; |
For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, |
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, |
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so? |
No, in despite of sense and secrecy, |
Unpeg the basket on the house's top, |
Let the birds fly, 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 so concluded on. |
Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, |
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 enginer |
Hoist with his own petar: and it 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, most secret, and most grave, |
Who was in life a foolish prating knave. |
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. |
Good-night, mother. [Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in the body of POLONIUS. |
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