When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn

And reason panders will.

Queen.

O Hamlet, speak no more:

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul.
Ham.

Nay, but to live

In the rank sweat of an incestuous bed.

Queen. No more, sweet Hamlet!

Ham.

A murderer and a villain;

A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!

Queen.

No more!

Ham. A king of shreds and patches

Enter Ghost.

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

You heavenly guards! What would you, gracious

figure?

Queen. Alas, he's mad!

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,

That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by

The important acting of your dread command?
O, say!

Ghost. Do not forget: this visitation

Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham.

How is it with you, lady?

Queen. Alas, how is't with you,

That you do bend your eye on vacancy

And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;

O gentle son,

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 glarės!

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones Would make them capable. Do not look upon me; Lest with this piteous action you convert

My stern effects: then what I have to do

Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Ham.
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?

Do you see nothing there?

Queen.

No, nothing but ourselves.

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

away!

My father, in his habit as he lived!

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!

[Exit Ghost. Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : This bodiless creation ecstasy

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
That I have utter'd bring me to the test,

And I the matter will

Would gambol from.

re-word; which madness

Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass but my madness speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to Heaven;
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come.

Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,

And live the purer with the other half.

Good night but go not to my uncle's bed;

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
Once more, good night :

And when you are desirous to be blest,

I'll blessing beg of you. So again, good night!
For this same lord,

[Pointing to Polonius.

I do repent: but Heaven hath pleased it so,
To punish me with this and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
Good night, mother.

[Exit Queen.

I must be cruel, only to be kind:
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

[Goes to arras.

鐵

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A room of state in the palace.

Enter QUEEN and MARCELlus.

Queen.

WILL not speak with her.

Mar. She is importunate, indeed dis

tract:

'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

Queen. Let her come in.

[Exit Marcellus.

[Aside] To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,

Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.

Re-enter MARCELLUS with OPHELIA.

Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia !

Oph. [Sings] How should I your true love know

From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff,

And his sandal shoon.

Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

[Sings] He is dead and gone, lady,

He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.

Oh, oh!

Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia,

Oph.

Pray you, mark.

[Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow,

Enter KING.

Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.

Oph. [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go

With true-love showers.

King. How do you, pretty lady? Oph. Well, God 'ild you! baker's daughter. Lord, we know not what we may be.

They say the owl was a know what we are, but God be at your table.

King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: [Sings] To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,

To be your Valentine.

King. How long hath she been thus ?

Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient : but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies good night, good night. [Exit. King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I [Exit Marcellus.

pray you.

O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,

But in battalions.
Queen.

[A noise within. Alack, what noise is this?

Enter MARCELLUS.

King. What is the matter?
Mar.

Save yourself, my lord: