Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night: but go not to my 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 easy:
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night!
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you.-For this same lord,
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.-
But one word more, good lady.
Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you 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 9,
Or padling 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.
I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on.
Ham. There's letters seal'd: and my two school
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: 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 Polonius.
Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDEN
King. There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves;
You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them:
Where is your son?
Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.
[To Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who go out. Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night?
King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both con-
tend
Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat! a rat!
And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.
It had been so with us, had we been there:
His liberty is full of threats to all;
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
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, let it feed
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore 93,
Among a mineral of metals base,
Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.
King. O, 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 ROSEN CRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.
[Exeunt Ros, and Guil.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done: so, happily, slander,-
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports his poison'd shot,-may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air.-O, come away!
My soul is full of discord, and dismay.
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