3.3.0.2Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
3.3.22273To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you.
3.3.32274I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
3.3.42275And he to England shall along with you.
3.3.52276The terms of our estate may not endure
3.3.62277Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies. We will ourselves provide.
The single
2284and peculiar life is bound
3.3.122285With all the strength and armor of the mind
3.3.132286To keep itself from noyance, but much more
3.3.142287That spirit upon whose spirit depends and rests
3.3.162289Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw
3.3.172290What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel
3.3.182291Fixed on the summit of the highest mount,
3.3.192292To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
3.3.202293Are mortised and adjoined, which, when it falls,
3.3.212294Each small annexment, petty consequence,
3.3.222295Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
3.3.232296Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage,
Which now goes too free-footed. We will haste us.
3.3.26.1Exeunt gentlemen [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
3.3.292304To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home,
3.3.302305And, as you said--and wisely was it said--
3.3.312306'Tis meet that some more audience then a mother,
3.3.322307Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
3.3.332308The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege.
And tell you what I know. Thanks, dear my lord.
3.3.362312Oh, my offense is rank! It smells to heaven.
3.3.402316My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
3.3.422318I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
3.3.432319And both neglect. What if this cursèd hand
3.3.442320Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
3.3.452321Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
3.3.462322To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
3.3.482324And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
3.3.502326Or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up;
3.3.512327My fault is past. But, oh, what form of prayer
3.3.522328Can serve my turn? "Forgive me my foul murder"?
3.3.532329That cannot be, since I am still possessed
3.3.542330Of those effects for which I did the murder:
3.3.552331My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
3.3.562332May one be pardoned and retain th'offense?
3.3.572333In the corrupted currents of this world,
3.3.582334Offense's gilded hand may shove by justice,
3.3.592335And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
3.3.602336Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above:
3.3.612337There is no shuffling, there the action lies
3.3.622338In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled,
3.3.632339Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
3.3.642340To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
3.3.652341Try what repentance can. What can it not?
3.3.662342Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
3.3.672343O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
3.3.682344O limèd soul, that, struggling to be free,
3.3.692345Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay.
3.3.702346Bow, stubborn knees, and heart with strings of steel,
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
3.3.742351And now I'll do't.
[He draws his sword.] And so he goes to heaven,
3.3.752352And so am I revenged. That would be scanned:
3.3.762353A villain kills my father, and for that,
3.3.772354I, his foul son, do this same villain send
3.3.79Oh, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
3.3.802356 He took my father grossly, full of bread,
3.3.812357With all his crimes broad blown, as fresh as May,
3.3.822358And how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven?
3.3.832359But in our circumstance and course of thought
3.3.842360'Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged,
3.3.862362When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? No.
3.3.872363Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent
3.3.882364When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
3.3.892365Or in th'incestuous pleasure of his bed,
3.3.922368Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
3.3.932369And that his soul may be as damned and black
3.3.942370As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
3.3.952371This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
3.3.972373Words without thoughts never to heaven go.