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, 20
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 about this fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

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,

30

'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 :

King.

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exit Polonius.

40

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't,
A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves

mercy

But to confront the visage of offence?

And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down?

My fault is past. But O,
Can serve my turn?

murder?'

Then I'll look up; 50 what form of prayer

Forgive me my foul

That cannot be, since I am still possess'd

Of those effects for which I did the murder,

My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free

60

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!

71

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:
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
A villain kills my father; and for that,

I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.

O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.

He took my father grossly, full of bread,

80

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as

May;

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?
No.

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At game, a-swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in 't ;

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:

90

This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit. King. [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words without thoughts never to heaven go. [Exit.

Scene IV.

The Queen's closet.

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. I'll sconce me even here. Pray you, be round with him.

Ham.

[Within] Mother, mother, mother! Queen. I'll warrant you; 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.

IO

What's the matter now?

No, by the rood, not so:

Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham.