Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'ft wag thy In noise fo rude against me?

Ham. Such an act,

[tongue :

That blurs the grace and blufh of modesty;
Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rofe
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And fets a blifter there; makes marriage-vows
As falfe as dicers' oaths. Oh, fuch a deed,
As from the body of contraction * plucks
The very foul, and fweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words. Heav'n's face doth glow
O'er this folidity and compound mass

With triftful vifage; and, as 'gainst the doom,.
Is thought-fick at the act.

Queen. Ay me! what act?

Ham. That roars fo loud, it thunders to the Indies, Look here upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit prefentment of two brothers. "See, what a grace was feated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself +; "An eye, like Mars, to threaten or command; A ftation, like the herald Mercury

66

New-lighted on a heaven-kiffing hill;

"A combination, and a form indeed, "Where every god did seem to fet his fcal, "To give the world affurance of a man. "This was your husband.-Look you now, what fol "Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear, [lows; Blafting his wholfome 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, 'tis humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this? Senfe, fure, you have, Elfe could you not have notion: but, fure that fenfe Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err; Nor fenfe to ecftafy was ne'er fo thrall'd, But it referv'd fome quantity of choice

To ferve in fuch a diff'rent.- -What devil was't

contraction for marringe contract.

† Alluding to the description of Phidias's Jupiter from Homer.

N 3

That

That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without fight,
Ears without hands or eyes, fmelling fans att,
Or but a fickly part of one true fenfe
Could not fo mope.

O fhame! where is thy blufh? rebellious hell,
If thou canft mutiny in a matron's bones;
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,

And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no fhame,
When the compulfive ardour gives the charge;
Since froft itself as actively doth burn,

And reafon panders will.

Queen. O Hamlet, fpeak no more.

Thou turn't mine eyes into my very foul,
And there I fee fuch black and grained spots,
As will not leave their tinct.

Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rank fweat of an incestuous bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nafty fty-

Queen. Oh, fpeak no more;

These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
No more, fweet Hamlet.

Ham. A murtherer, and a villain !

A flave, that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord. A vice of Kings;
A cutpurfe of the empire and the rule,
That from a fhelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket.

Queen. No more.

Enter Ghoft.

Ham. A King of fhreds and patches

"Save me! and hover o'er me with your wings,

[Starting up. "You heav'nly guards!What would your gracious figure?

Queen. Alas, he's mad

Ham." Do you not come your tardy fon to chide, "That laps'd in time and paffion, lets go by

"Th' important acting of your dread command? "O fay !"

Ghoft.

Ghoft. Do not forget: this vifitation
Is but to whet thy almoft blunted purpose.
But look; amazement on thy mother fits;
Oftep between her and her fighting foul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham. How is it with you, Lady?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you?

That thus you bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep,
And, as the fleeping foldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements
Start up, and stand on end. O gentle fon,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
Ham. "On him! on him!--look you, how pale

he glares!

"His form and caufe conjoin'd, preaching to ftones, "Would make them capable. Do not look on me, "Left with this piteous action you convert

66 My ftern effects; then what I have to do, Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood. Queen. To whom do you speak this?

Ham. Do you see nothing there?

[Pointing to the Ghoft.

Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is, 1 fee.

Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?
Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.

Ham. Why, look you there! look how it steals a

My father in his habit as he lived!

[way!

Look where he goes ev'n now, out at the portal.

[Exit Ghoft. Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain, This bodile's creation ecstasy

Is very cunning in.

Ham. What ecstasy?

"My pulfe, as your's, doth temp'rately keep time, "And makes as healthful-mufic. 'Tis not madness "That I have utter'd; bring me to the teft,

*The hairs are excrementitious, that is, without life or fenfation yet thofe very hairs, as if they had life, ftart up, &c.

"And

"And I the matter will re-word; which madness
"Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your foul,
That not your trefpafs, but my madnefs fpeaks.
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place;
Whilft rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confefs yourself to heav'n;
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue
For, in the fatnefs of these purfy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,

Yea, courb, and wooe, for leave to do it good.

Queen. Oh Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart ing twain.

Ham. O, throw away the worfer part of it,

And live the purer with the other half.
Good night; but go not to mine uncle's bed.
Affume a virtue, if you have it not.

That monfter Custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habits evil, is angel yet in this;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewife gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on refrain to-night;
And that fhall lend a kind of eafinefs

To the next abftinence: the next, more easy;
For ufe can almost change the ftamp of nature,
And mafter ev'n the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night!
And when you are defirous to be bless'd,
I'll blefling beg of you. For this fame Lord,

[Pointing to Polonius.
I do repent: but heav'n hath pleas'd it fo,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their fcourge and minifter.
I will beftow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him; fo, again, good night!
I must be cruel, only to be kind ;

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
Queen. What fhall I do?

Ham. Not this by no means that I bid you do,
Let the bloat King tempt you again to-bed;

Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his moufe;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kiffes,

Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to revel all this matter out,
That I effentially am not in madness,

But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know.
For who that's but a Queen, fair, fober, wife,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do fo?
No, in defpight of fenfe and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,

Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape,
To try conclufions, in the basket

And break your own neck down.

creep;

Queen. Be thou affur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou haft faid to me.

Ham. I must to England, you know that?

Queen. Alack, I had forgot; 'tis fo concluded on. Ham. There's letters feal'd, and my two fchool-fel(Whom I will truft, as I will adders fang'd), [lows, They bear the mandate; they must fweep my way, And marshal me to knavery: let it work

"For 'tis the fport, to have the engineer
"Hoift with his own petar: and 't shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis moft fweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet!
This man fhall fet me packing;

I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room;
Mother, good night.

Indeed, this counfellor

Is now moft ftill, moft fecret, and moft grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
Come, Sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good night, mother.

[Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius

ACT