Hamlet - Page 107

But that I know love is begun by time103, And that I see, in passages of proof104, Time qualifies105 the spark and fire of it.

Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake

To show yourself your father's son in deed

More than in words?

LAERTES To cut his throat i'th'church.

KING No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize110; Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,

Will you do this, keep close112 within your chamber.

Hamlet returned shall know you are come home:

We'll put on114 those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine116 together And wager on your heads: he, being remiss117, Most generous118 and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils119, so that with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose

A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice121

Requite122 him for your father.

LAERTES I will do't,

And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword.

I bought an unction of a mountebank125

So mortal I but dipped a knife in it126, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare127, Collected from all simples128 that have virtue Under the moon129, can save the thing from death That is but scratched withal130: I'll touch my point With this contagion, that if I gall131 him slightly, It may be death.

KING Let's further think of this,

Weigh what convenience both of time and means

May fit us to our shape135: if this should fail, And that our drift look136 through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assayed: therefore this project

Should have a back or second, that might hold,

If this should blast in proof139. Soft, let me see: We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings140.

I ha't141: When in your motion you are hot and dry --

As make your bouts143 more violent to the end --

And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him

A chalice for the nonce145, whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venomed stuck146, Our purpose may hold there.--

Enter Queen

How now, sweet queen?

GERTRUDE One woe doth tread upon another's heel,

So fast they'll follow: your sister's drowned, Laertes.

LAERTES Drowned? O, where?

Tags: William Shakespeare Classics
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