Page 300 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

To be forestalled ere we come to fall
Or pardon’d being down? Then I’ll look up. [50]
My fault is past − but O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? ‘Forgive me my foul murder?’

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. [55]
May one be pardon’d and retain th’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: [60]

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? [65]
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free

Art more engag’d! Help, angels! Make assay.
Bow, stubborn knees; and hearth with strings of steel, [70]
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe.
All may be well.

He kneels.

Enter Hamlet.

HAMLET
Now might I do it pat, now a is a-praying.
And now I’ll do’t.
[Draws his sword.]

And so a goes to heaven;
And so am I reveng’d. That would be scann’d: [75]
A villain kills my father, and for that
I, his sole son, do this same villain send

To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.