_Ghost_ Hamlet, I once againe appeare to thee, To put thee in remembrance of my death: Doe not neglect, nor long time put it off. But I perceiue by thy distracted lookes, Thy mother's fearefull, and she stands amazde: 75 Speake to her Hamlet, for her sex is weake, Comfort thy mother, Hamlet, thinke on me. _Ham._ How i'st with you Lady? _Queene_ Nay, how i'st with you That thus you bend your eyes on vacancie, 80 And holde discourse with nothing but with ayre? _Ham._ Why doe you nothing heare? _Queene_ Not I. _Ham._ Nor doe you nothing see? _Queene_ No neither. _Ham._ No, why see the king my father, my father, in the habite As he liued, looke you how pale he lookes, See how he steales away out of the Portall, Looke, there he goes. _exit ghost._ _Queene_ Alas, it is the weaknesse of thy braine, 90 Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy hearts griefe: But as I haue a soule, I sweare by heauen, I neuer knew of this most horride murder: But Hamlet, this is onely fantasie, And for my loue forget these idle fits. 95 _Ham._ Idle, no mother, my pulse doth beate like yours, It is not madnesse that possesseth Hamlet. O mother, if euer you did my deare father loue, Forbeare the adulterous bed to night, And win your selfe by little as you may, 100 In time it may be you wil lothe him quite: And mother, but assist mee in reuenge, And in his death your infamy shall die. _Queene_ _Hamlet_, I vow by that maiesty, That knowes our thoughts, and lookes into our hearts, 105 I will conceale, consent, and doe my best, What stratagem soe're thou shalt deuise. _Ham._ It is enough, mother good night: Come sir, I'le prouide for you a graue, Who was in life a foolish prating knaue. 110 _Exit Hamlet with the dead body._ _Enter the King and Lordes._ _King_ Now Gertred, what sayes our sonne, how doe you finde him? _Queene_ Alas my lord, as raging as the sea: Whenas he came, I first bespake him faire, But then he throwes and tosses me about, 115 As one forgetting that I was his mother: At last I call'd for help: and as I cried, _Corambis_ Call'd, which Hamlet no sooner heard, but whips me Out his rapier, and cries, a Rat, a Rat, and in his rage The good olde man he killes. 120 _King_ Why this his madnesse will vndoe our state. Lordes goe to him, inquire the body out. _Gil._ We will my Lord. _Exeunt Lordes._