The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 119

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits evil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence; the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either [master] the devil, or throw him out With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; And when you are desirous to be blest, I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, To punish me with this, and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister.

I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gave him. So again, good night.

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

One word more, good lady.

Queen. What shall I do?

Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed; Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his d.a.m.n'd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?

No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top, Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep And break your own neck down.

Queen. Be thou a.s.sur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me.

Ham. I must to England; you know that?

Queen. Alack, I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on.

Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet When in one line two crafts directly meet.

This man shall set me packing.

I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.- Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, Who was in life a foolish peating knave.

Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.

Good night, mother.

[Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius.

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ACT IV. Scene I.

Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.

Where is your son?

Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night!

King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?

Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!'

And in this brainish apprehension kills The unseen good old man.

King. O heavy deed!

It had been so with us, had we been there.

His liberty is full of threats to all- To you yourself, to us, to every one.

Alas, how shall this b.l.o.o.d.y deed be answer'd?

It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt This mad young man. But so much was our love We would not understand what was most fit, But, like the owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let it feed Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?

Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; O'er whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base, Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done.

King. O Gertrude, come away!

The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch But we will s.h.i.+p him hence; and this vile deed We must with all our majesty and skill Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Friends both, go join you with some further aid.

Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him.

Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this.

Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern].

Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends And let them know both what we mean to do And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-]

Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name And hit the woundless air.- O, come away!

My soul is full of discord and dismay.

Exeunt.

Scene II.

Elsinore. A pa.s.sage in the Castle.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Safely stow'd.

Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!

Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come.

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence And bear it to the chapel.

Ham. Do not believe it.

Ros. Believe what?

Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son of a king?

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd, to be last Swallowed. When he needs what you have glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry again.

Ros. I understand you not, my lord.

Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.

Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to the King.

Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body.

The King is a thing- Guil. A thing, my lord?

Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.

Exeunt.

Scene III.

Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter King.

King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body.

How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!

Yet must not we put the strong law on him.

He's lov'd of the distracted mult.i.tude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are reliev'd, Or not at all.