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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!

730 Pol. [Behind.] What, ho! help!

Ham. How now! a rat?' Dead, for a ducat, dead.

[HAMLET strikes at Polonius through the Arras, Pol. [Behind.] 0, 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!
Han. A bloody deed ;-almost as bad, good mo-

ther,
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";

740

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If damned custom have not braz'd it so,
That it be proof and bulwark against, sense. 750
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: Q, such a deed,
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes 760
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;

770
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, 789 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 thrallid,
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 ? 791
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 mutiny in a matron's bones,
To daming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire : proclaim no shame,
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge ; 800
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
Queen. 0 Hamlet, speak no more ;
lij

Tho'l

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 incestuous bed;
Stew'd in corruption; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty stye ;

810
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 tythe
Of your precedent lord :-

:-a vice 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.

820

Enter Ghost.

Ham. A king of shreds and patches : 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, let's 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.

830

But,

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