SCENE III.
A room in the palace.
Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
King.
I like him not; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you: 9Q1188
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
1 note
Out of his lunes. 9Q1189
Guil.
We will ourselves provide:
Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many many bodies safe,
That live, and feed, upon your majesty.
-- 312 --
Ros.
The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more,
2 note
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
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 mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
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 upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
Both.
We will haste us.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
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,
-- 313 --
'Tis meet, that some more audience than a mother,
3 note
Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The speech, 4 noteof vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
King.
Thanks, dear my lord.
[Exit.
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,
5 note
Though inclination be as sharp as will; 9Q1190
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 two-fold force,—
To be fore-stalled, ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!—
-- 314 --
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.
6 noteMay 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?
7 noteYet what can it, when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!
8 note
O limed soul; that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;
All may be well!
[The King kneels.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying9 note;
-- 315 --
And now I'll do't;—And so he goes to heaven:
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'd1 note:
A villain kills my father; and, for that,
2 noteI, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary3 note, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
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 reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No.
4 note
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
-- 316 --
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage5 note
;
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed;
At gaming, swearing; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't:
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven6 note
;
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
7 note
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
[Exit.
-- 317 --
The King rises.
King.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.
Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
