GERTRUDE

Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye look Like a Friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy veiled lids Seek for thy Noble Father in the dust; Thou knowest it's common, all that lives must die, Passing through Nature, to Eternity. If it be; Why seems it so particular with thee. One woe does tread upon another's heel, So fast they'll follow: your Sister's drowned Laertes. There is a Willow grows aslant a Brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream: There with fantastic Garlands did she come, Of Crow-slowers, Nettles, Daisies, and long Purples, That liberal Shepherds give a grosser name; But our cold Maids do Dead Men's Fingers call them: There on the pendant boughs, her Coronet weeds Clambering to hang; and envious sliver broke, When down the weedy Trophies, and her self, Fell in the weeping Brook, her clothes spread wide, And Mermaid-like, a while they boar her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress, Or Like a creature Native, and endued Unto that Element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments, heavy with her drink, Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious buy, To muddy death. Let not thy Mother loose her Prayers Hamlet: I prithee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talked of you, And sure I am, two men there are not living, To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much Gentry, and good will, As to expend your time with us awhile, For the supply and profit of our Hope, Your Visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a Kings remembrance. Thanks Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance. And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed Son. Go some of you, And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is. I doubt it is no other, but the main, His Father's death, and our overhasty Marriage. More matter, with less Art. Came this from Hamlet to her. It may be very likely. So he ha indeed. But look where sadly the poor wretch Comes reading. Did he receive you well? Did you assay him to any pastime? I shall obey you, And for your partly Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauty's be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your Honours. Come hither my good Hamlet, fit by me. Sleep rock thy Brain, And never come mischance between us twain. The Lady protests to much me thinks. How fares my Lord? I'll warrant you, fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended. Come, come, you answer with and idle tongue. Why how now Hamlet? Have you forgotten me? Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, hoa. O me, what hast thou done? O what a rash, and bloody deed is this? As kill a King? What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tonge, In noise so rude against me? Aye me; what act, that roars so loud, & thun dears in the Index. Oh Hamlet, speak no more. Thou turnest mine eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their Tinct. O speak to me, no more, These words Like Daggers enter in mine ears. No more sweet Hamlet. No more. Alas he's mad. Alas, how is't with you? That you bend your eye on vacancy, And with their corporal air do hold discourse. Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildly peep, And as the sleeping Soldiers in the Alarm, Your bedded hair, Like life in excrements, Start up, and stand and end. O gentle Son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? To who do you speak this? Nothing at all, yet all that is I see. No, nothing but our selves. This is the very coinage of your Brain, This bodiless Creation ecstasy is very cunning I . O Hamlet, Thou hast cleft my heart in twain. What shall I do? Be thou assured, if words be made of breath, And breath of life: I have no life to breath What thou hast said to me. Alack I had forgotten: It's so concluded on. Ah my good Lord, what have I seen to night? 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, a Rat, And in his brainish apprehension kills The unseen good old man. To draw apart the body he hath killed, Over whom his very madness Like some Oar Among a Mineral of Mettles base Shows it self pure. He weeps for what is done. I will not speak with her. What would she have? 'Twere good she were spoken with, For she may strew dangerous conjectures In ill breeding minds. Let her come in. To my sick soul (as sins true Nature is) Each toy seems Prologue, to some great amiss, So full of Artless jealousy is gilded, It spill's it self, in fearing to be spilled. How now Ophelia? Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song? Nay but Ophelia. Alas, look here my Lord. Alack, what noise is this? How cheerfully on the false Trail they cry, O this is Counter you false Danish Dogs. Calmly good Laertes. But not by him. Hamlet, Hamlet. O my Son, what Theme? For love of God forbear him. He's fat, and scant of breath. Here's a Napkin, rub thy brows, The Queen Carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. I will my Lord; I pray you pardon me. Come, let me wipe thy face. No, no, the drink, the drink. O my deer Hamlet, the drink, the drink, I am poisoned. Amen. Sweets, to the sweet farewell. I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlets wife: I thought thy Bridebed to have decked (sweet Maid) And not to have strewed thy Grave. Drowned, drowned.