King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage,
For we will fetters put about this fear,

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,

To hear the process: I'll warrant she'll tax him
home:

And, as you said, and wisely was it said,

'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech, of vantage.

liege:

30

Fare you well, my

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.

King.

Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exit Polonius.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand

40

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves

mercy

But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,

50

Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul

murder'?

That cannot be, since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free,

60

Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings of steel,

71

[Retires and kneels.

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!...

All may be well.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven:
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd;
A villain kills my father; and for that,

I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.

O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.

He took my father grossly, full of bread,

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With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as

May;

And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,

To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No!

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't;
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

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[Exit.

King. [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words without thoughts never to heaven go. [Exit.

SCENE IV

The Queen's closet.

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 sconce me even here.

Ham.

Pray you, be round with him.

[Within] Mother, mother, mother!

Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw, I

[Polonius hides behind the arras.

hear him coming.

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.

Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham.

ΙΟ

What's the matter now?

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!

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Ham. [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat,

dead!

Pol. [Behind] O, I am slain!

[Makes a pass through the arras.

[Falls and dies.

Nay, I know not:

Queen. O me, what hast thou done?

Ham.

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.

30

Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
[Lifts up the arras and discovers 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 be proof and bulwark against sense.

Queen. What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me?