Kin.
There's matter ^note in these sighs, these profound heaves;
You must translate; 'tis fit, we understand them:
Where is your son?

Que.
Bestow this place on us a little while.— ^note [Exeunt Ros. and Gui.
Ah, my good lord, ^note what have I seen to-night?

Kin.
What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?

Que.
Mad as the sea, ^note and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,

Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries ^note, A rat, a rat;
And, in this ^note brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.

Kin.
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 bloody deed be answer'd?
It will be lay'd 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 ^note feed
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?

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

Kin.
O, ^note 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 ^note hath he drag'd him:
Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.— [Exeunt Ros. and Gui.

Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let ^note them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander,— ^note14Q1460
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports his poison'd shot,—may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air. O, come away;
My soul is full of discord, and dismay. [Exeunt.

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