Page 304 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

HAMLET

Ay, lady, it was my word. − [30]
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell.
I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune:

Thou find’st to be too busy is some danger. −
Leave wringing of your hands. Peace, sit you down,
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall [35]
If it be made of penetrable stuff,
If damned custom have not braz’d 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?

HAMLET
Such an act [40]

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 [45]

As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words. Heaven’s face does glow

O’er this solidity and compound mass
With tristful visage, as against the doom, [50]
Is thought-sick at the act.

QUEEN
Ay me, what act
That roars so loud and thunders in the index?

HAMLET
Look here upon this picture, and on this,

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See what a grace was seated on this brow, [55]
Hyperion’s curls, the front of Jove himself,