He will come straight.
2376Look you lay home to him.
3.4.22377Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
3.4.32378And that your grace hath screened and stood between
3.4.42379Much heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here.
3.4.62381Hamletwithin Mother, mother, mother!
I'll warrant you, fear me not.
3.4.8.1[Polonius conceals himself behind the arras.] Now mother, what's the matter?
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Mother, you have my father much offended.
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Go, go, you question with an idle tongue.
Why, how now, Hamlet?
Why, how now, Hamlet? What's the matter now?
Have you forgot me?
Have you forgot me? No, by the rood, not so.
3.4.162394You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife,
3.4.172395But--would you were not so!--you are my mother.
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not
2398budge.
3.4.212400Where you may see the inmost part of you.
What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murder me?
What ho! Help, help, help!
How now, a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead!
3.4.25.1[He stabs through the arras with his rapier.] [Behind the arras] Oh, I am slain!
[Behind the arras] Oh, I am slain! Oh, me, what hast thou done?
Nay I know not. Is it the King?
Oh, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
A bloody deed--almost as bad, good mother,
3.4.302410As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
As kill a king?
As kill a king? Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
3.4.31.1[He parts the arras and discovers the dead Polonius.] 3.4.322413Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
3.4.332414I took thee for thy betters. Take thy fortune.
3.4.342415Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
3.4.352416[To the Queen]Leave wringing of your hands. Peace, sit you down,
3.4.362417And let me wring your heart, for so I shall
3.4.392420That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me? Such an act
3.4.422424That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
3.4.432425Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
3.4.442426From the fair forehead of an innocent love
3.4.452427And makes a blister there, makes marriage vows
3.4.462428As false as dicers' oaths--oh, such a deed
3.4.492431A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face doth glow,
3.4.512433With tristful visage as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act. Ay me, what act,
3.4.53That roars so loud and
2436thunders in the index?
Look here upon this picture, and on this,
3.4.552438The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
3.4.562439See what a grace was seated on his brow:
3.4.572440Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself,
3.4.582441An eye like Mars to threaten or command,
3.4.622445Where every god did seem to set his seal
3.4.642447This was your husband. Look you now what follows:
3.4.652448Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear,
3.4.662449Blasting his wholesome breath. Have you eyes?
3.4.672450Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed
3.4.682451And batten on this moor? Ha? Have you eyes?
3.4.692452You cannot call it love, for at your age
3.4.702453The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,
3.4.712454And waits upon the judgment, and what judgment
3.4.722455Would step from this to this? What devil was't
3.4.732456That thus hath cozened you at hoodman-blind?
3.4.742457O shame, where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
3.4.752458If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
3.4.772460And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame
3.4.782461When the compulsive ardor gives the charge,
3.4.792462Since frost itself as actively doth burn
Oh, Hamlet speak no more!
3.4.822465Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,
3.4.832466And there I see such black and grainèd spots
As will not leave their tinct. Nay, but to live
3.4.862470Stewed in corruption, honeying and making love
Oh, speak to me no more!
3.4.892473These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
No more, sweet Hamlet. A murderer and a villain,
3.4.912476A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
3.4.922477Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings,
3.4.942479That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
No more!
A king of shreds and patches--
3.4.982484[Seeing the Ghost]Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
3.4.992485You heavenly guards! What would you, gracious figure?
Alas, he's mad!
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
3.4.1022488That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
Oh, say! Do not forget. This visitation
Speak to her, Hamlet. How is it with you, lady?
Alas, how is't with you,
3.4.1122499And with th'incorporal air do hold discourse?
3.4.1132500Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep,
3.4.1182505Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares!
3.4.1202507His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,
3.4.1212508Would make them capable.
[To the Ghost] Do not look upon me,
3.4.1242511Will want true color, tears perchance for blood.
To who do you speak this?
Do you see nothing there?
Nothing at all, yet all that is I see.
Nor did you nothing hear?
No, nothing but ourselves.
Why, look you there, look how it steals away!
3.4.1322519Look where he goes, even now out at the portal!
This is the very coinage of your brain.
3.4.1342521This bodiless creation ecstasy is very cunning in.
Ecstasy?
3.4.1362523My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time,
3.4.1372524And makes as healthful music. It is not madness
3.4.1402527Would gambol from, Mother, for love of grace,
3.4.1422529That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
3.4.1432530It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
3.4.1472534And do not spread the compost o'er the weeds
3.4.1482535To make them rank. Forgive me this my virtue,
Oh, Hamlet,
2540thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
Oh, throw away the worser part of it,
3.4.1562544Assume a virtue if you have it not. Refrain tonight,
3.4.1582546To the next abstinence. Once more good night,
3.4.1602548I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,
3.4.1652553The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
What shall I do?
Not this by no means that I bid you do:
3.4.1712559Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse,
3.4.1732561Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers,
3.4.1762564But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know,
3.4.1772565For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
3.4.1792567Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
Be thou assured, if words be made of breath
3.4.1862574And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
I must to England. You know that?
Alack, I had forgot. 'Tis so concluded on.
This man shall set me packing.
3.4.1932581Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
3.4.1952583Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.--