Something too much of this.
There is a play to-night before the king
One scene of it comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee of my father's death.
I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
Even with the very comment of thy soul
Observe mine uncle; if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
And my imaginations are as foul
As Vulcan's stithy; give him heedful note.
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
And, after, we will both our judgments join
In censure of his seeming.
HOR.--Well, my lord.
HAM--They are coming to the play, I must be idle.
Get you a place (_Goes and stands_, R)
* * * * *
HAMLET AND HIS MOTHER.
HAMLET--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 damned custom have not brassed it so,
That it be proof and bulwark against sense.
QUEEN--What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
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
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: Heaven's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
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