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Can serve my turn?

murder?

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 pardoned, and retain the offence ?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 't is seen, the wicked prize itself

Buys out the law: but 't is not so above;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled,
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 liméd soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay:
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of

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steel,

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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 pray

ing;

And now I'll do 't :-and so he goes to heaven:
And so am I reveng'd? that would be scanned :
A villain kills my father; and, for that,

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

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge

He took my father grossly, full of bread;

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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 seasoned 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 pleasures of his bed;

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At gaming, 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 damned 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.- A 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 screened and stood be

tween

Much heat and him. I 'll silence me e'en

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 himself behind the arras.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much of

fended.

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Hum. Mother, you have my father much of

fended.

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.

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Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not

murder me?

Help, help, ho!

Pol. [Behind.] What, ho! help, help, help!

Ham. How now ! a rat? [Draws.] Dead for a

ducat, dead!

[Makes a pass through the arras.

Pol. [Behind.] O! I am slain.

[Falls, and dies.

Queen. O me, what hast thou donei

Ham.

Is it the king?

Nay, I know not s

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.

Queen. As kill a king !
Ham.

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Ay, lady, 't was my word

[Lifts up the arras, and sees POLONIUS

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,

And let me wring your heart: for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff;

If damnéd custom have not braz'd it so,

That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

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Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st was

thy tongu

In noise so rude against me?

Ham.

Such an act

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ;
Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O. such a deed,

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