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 45
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves

mercy

But to confront the visage of offence?

And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,

Then I'll look up; 50
But, 0, what form of

Or pardoned being down?
My fault is past.

prayer

Can serve my turn? "Forgive me my foul
murder"?

That can not be; since I am still possessed
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 55
May one be pardoned 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 com-

pelled,

Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.

rests?

What then?

What

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,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make
assay!

Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings
of steel,

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well.

[Retires and kneels.

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
scanned.

A villain kills my father, and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread,
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 seasoned 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 game, a-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 damned and

black

85

90

As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. 95
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

[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 screened and stood between

Much heat and him. I'll silence me even 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?

10 Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much

offended.

Ham. Mother, you have my father much of

fended.

Queer. 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. 15

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. shall not budge.

You go not till I set you up a glass

You

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. [Drawing.] How now! A rat?

for a ducat, dead!

Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain!

Queen.

20

Dead, 25

[Makes a pass through the arras.

[Falls and dies.

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.

30