To keep those many many bodies safe, Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound, With all the strength and armour of the mind, To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel, Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear, Ros., Guil. We will haste us. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself, To hear the process; I'll warrant she'll tax him home. And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 'Tis meet, that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege: I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know. King. Thanks, dear my lord, [Exit POLONIUS. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; mercy, But to confront the visage of offence? Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 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: I, his sole son, do this same villain send O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. 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 season'd for his passage? Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven; And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black, As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit The KING rises and advances. King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit. SCENE IV.-Another Room in the same. 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 screen'd and stood between Much heat and him. Pray you, be round with him. I'll 'sconce me even here. I'll warrant you Ham. [within.] Mother! mother! mother! Queen. Fear me not:-withdraw, I hear him coming, [POLONIUS hides 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 set those to you that can speak. Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not, till I set you up a glass 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! Dead, for a ducat, dead. [HAMLET makes a pass through the arras. Pol. [behind.] O, I am slain. [Falls, and dies. Queen. O me, what hast thou done? Ham. Is it the king? Nay, I know not: [Lifts up the arras, and 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. Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word.— [To POL.] Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! 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, |