4. Scene IV. Another room in the castle.
How now? a rat? [Draws.]
Dead for a ducat, dead!
[Makes a pass through the arras.]
[Behind.] O, I am slain!
[Falls and dies.]
O me, what hast thou done?
Nay, I know not: is it the king?
[Draws forth Polonius.]
O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
A bloody deed!--almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king and marry with his brother.
As kill a king!
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.--
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,
If it be made of penetrable stuff;
If damned custom have not braz'd it so
That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?
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.
Ah me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?