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. [To Ros. and Guild. who go out.
Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to night?

King.
What, Gertrude? how does Hamlet?

Queen.
Mad as the seas, and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier; in his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
He whips his rapier out, and cries, 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 your self, to us, to every one.
Alas! how shall this bloody 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

Ev'n 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,
Shews it self pure. He weeps for what is done.

King.
Oh Gertrude, come away:
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
We must, with all our Majesty and Skill,
Both countenance and excuse. Ho! Guildenstern! Enter Rosincrantz 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 drag'd him.
Go seek him out, speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chappel. Pray you, haste in this. [Ex. Ros. and Guil.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends,(56) ^note











And let them know both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done. For, haply, Slander
(Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,

Transports its poyson'd shot;) may miss our Name,
And hit the woundless air.—O, come away;
My soul is full of discord and dismay. [Exeunt. Enter Hamlet.

Ham.
Safely stowed.—

Gentlemen within.
Hamlet! lord Hamlet!

Ham.
What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
Oh, here they come. Enter Rosincrantz, 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 chappel.

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 spunge, what replication should be made by the son of a King?

Ros.

Take you me for a spunge, my lord?

Ham.

Ay, Sir, that sokes 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 apple, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd, to be last swallow'd: when he needs what you have glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and, spunge, 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—

Guild.

A thing, my lord?

Ham.

Of nothing: bring me to him; hide fox, and all after.

King.
I've sent to seek him, and to find the body;
How dang'rous is it, that this man goes loose!
Yet must not we put the strong law on him;
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
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,
This sudden sending him away must seem
Deliberate pause: diseases, desp'rate grown,
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all. Enter Rosincrantz.
How now? what hath befall'n?

Ros.
Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
We cannot get from him.

King.
But where is he?

Ros.
Without, my lord, guarded to know your pleasure.

King.
Bring him before us.

Ros.
Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

Enter Hamlet, and Guildenstern.

King.
Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

Ham.
At supper.

King.
At supper? where?

Ham.

Not where he eats, but where he is eaten; a certain convocation of politique worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only Emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat our selves for maggots. Your fat King and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes but to one table; that's the end.

King.

Alas, alas!

Ham.

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a King, eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

King.

What dost thou mean by this?

Ham.

Nothing, but to shew you how a King may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.

King.

Where is Polonius?

Ham.

In heav'n, send thither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i'th' other place your self. But, indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobbey.

King.
Go seek him there.

Ham.
He will stay 'till ye come.

King.
Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,
(Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For That which thou hast done) must send thee hence
With fiery quickness; therefore prepare thy self;
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
Th' associates tend, and every thing is bent
For England.

Ham.
For England?

King.
Ay, Hamlet.

Ham.
Good.

King.
So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

Ham.

I see a Cherub, that sees them; but come, for England! farewel, dear mother.

King.

Thy loving father, Hamlet.

Ham.

My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh, and, so, my mother. Come, for England.

King.
Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to night.
Away, for every thing is seal'd and done
That else leans on th' affair; pray you, make haste. [Exeunt Ros. and Guild.
And, England! if my love thou hold'st at ought,(57) ^note




As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us; thou may'st not coldly set
Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
By letters congruing to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England:

For like the hectick in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me; 'till I know 'tis done,
How-e'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [Exit.

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