Ham.
(Within.) Mother, mother, mother!
Queen.
I'll warrant you:
Fear me not:--withdraw; I hear him coming.
(Polonius goes 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 t tho to you that can speak.
Ham.
Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I t you up a glass
Where you may e 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.
How now? a rat? (Draws.)
Dead for a ducat, dead!
(Makes a pass through the arras.)
Pol.
(Behind.) O, I am slain!
(Falls and dies.)
Queen.
O me, what hast thou done?
Ham.
Nay, I know not: is it the king?
(Draws forth Polonius.)
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.--
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
(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;
If damned custom have not braz'd it so
That it is proof and bulwark against n.
Queen.
What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
In noi so rude against me?
Ham.
Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the ro
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And ts a blister there; makes marriage-vows
As fal 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.
Ah me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Ham.
Look here upon this picture, and on this, --
The counterfeit prentment of two brothers.
See what a grace was ated on this brow;
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himlf;
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 em to t his al,
To give the world assurance of a man;
This was your husband.--Look you now what follows:
Here is your husband, like a milldew'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? Sen, sure, you have,
El could you not have motion: but sure that n
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err;
