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A room in the castle.
[Enter CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]
CLAUDIUS
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I like | him not,| nor stands | it safe | with us,
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To let | his mad|ness range.| Therefore pre|pare
you,
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I your | commis|sion will / forthwith | dispatch,
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And he | to Eng|land shall | along | with you:
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The terms | of our | estate,| may not | endure
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Hazard | so dang|erous as | doth hour|ly grow
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Out of his | lunacies.
GUILDENSTERN
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We will
| ourselves | provide:
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Most ho|ly and | relig|ious fear | it is
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To keep | those ma|ny ma|ny bod|ies safe
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That live | and feed | upon | your maj|esty.
ROSENCRANTZ
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The sing|le
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And | pecul|iar life | is bound
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With all | the strength | and arm|or of | the
mind,
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To keep | itself | from noy|ance; but / much more,
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That spirit,| upon | whose weal | depends | and rests
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The lives | of many,| The cease | of
maj|esty
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Dies not alone;| but like | a gulf | doth^draw
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What's near | it, with | it. It | is a mas|sy
wheel
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Fixed on | the sum|mit of | the high|est mount,
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To whose huge spokes,| ten* thous|and les|ser things
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Are mor|tised and | adjoined:| which when | it
falls,
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Each^small | annex|ment, pet|ty cons|equence
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Attends | the boist|erous ru|in. nev|er alone
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Did the / king sigh,| but with | a gene|ral groan.
CLAUDIUS
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Arm you,| I pray | you to this | speedy | voyage;
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For we | will fet|ters put | upon | this fear,
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Which now | goes too free-|footed.
ROSENCRANTZ GUILDENSTERN
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We will | haste us.
[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Enter POLONIUS]
POLONIUS
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My lord,| he's go/ing to his | mother's | closet:
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Behind | the ar|ras I'll | convey | myself
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To hear | the pro|cess. I'll war|rant she'll tax
| him home, ??
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And as | you said,| and wise|ly was | it said,
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'Tis meet | that some more | audience | than a |
mother,
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Since^na|ture makes | them part|ial, should / orehear
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The speech | of vant|age. Fare | you well |
my liege,
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I'll call | upon | you ere | you go | to bed,
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And tell | you what | I know.
[Exit POLONIUS]
CLAUDIUS
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Thanks dear* | my
lord.
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Oh my | offense | is rank,| it smells | to
heaven,
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It hath | the prim|al eld|est curse | upon it,
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A broth|er's murd|er. Pray | can I not,
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Though in|clina|tion be | as sharp | as will:
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My strong|er guilt,| defeats | my strong |
intent,
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And like | a man | to doub|le bus|iness bound,
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I stand | in pause | where I | shall first | begin,
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And both | neglect;| What^if | this curs|ed hand
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Were thick|er than | itself | with broth|er's
blood,
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Is there | not rain | enough | in the sweet |
heavens
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To wash it | white as snow? Where|to serves^mer||cy,
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But | to confront | the vis|age of | offense?
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And what's | in pray|er but this // two-fold
force,
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To be | forestal|led ere | we come | to fall,
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Or pard|oned be|ing down?| Then^I'll | look^up,
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My fault | is past.| But oh,| what form | of
prayer
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Can serve | my turn?| Forgive | me my foul |
murder:
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That can|not be,| since^I | am still | possessed
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Of those | effects | for which^I | did the |
murder.
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My crown,| mine^own | ambi|tion, and | my queen:
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May one | be pard|oned, and | retain | the
offense?
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In the | corrupt|ed cur|rents of / this world,
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Offense's | gilded | hand may | shove by*|
justice,
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And oft |'tis seen,| the wick|ed prize | itself
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Buys out the law;| but 'tis | not so | above,
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There is | no shuf|fling, there | the ac|tion
lies
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In his true | nature,| and we | ourselves |
compelled
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Even to | the teeth | and fore|head of | our
faults,
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To give | in ev|idence.| What then?| What rests?
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Try what | repent|ance can.| What can | it not?
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Yet what can it,| when one | can not | repent?
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O wretch|ed state!| Oh bos|om, black | as death!
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O lim|ed soul,| that strug|gling to / be free,
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Art more | engaged:| Help angels, Make | assay:
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Bow stubborn knees,| and heart | with strings | of steel,
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Be soft | as sin|ews of the // newborn babe,
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oo
All | may | be | well.|
[Retires and kneels. Enter HAMLET]
HAMLET
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Now might | I do | it pat,| now he is | praying,
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And now | I'll do it,| and so | he goes | to
heaven,
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And so | am I | revenged:| That would | be
scanned,
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A vil|lain kills | my fath|er, and | for that
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I his sole son,| do this / same vil|lain send
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To heaven.| Oh this is | hire and | salary,| not
revenge.
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He took | my fath|er gross|ly, full | of bread,
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With all his | crimes broad blown,| as flush | as
May,
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And how his | audit | stands, who | knows, save
heaven:
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But in | our cir|cumstance | and course | of
thought
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'Tis hea|vy with | him: and | am I then |
revenged,
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To take | him in | the purg|ing of | his soul,
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When he is | fit and | seasoned | for his
pas|sage? No.
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Up sword, and^know | thou a more hor|rid hent
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When he | is drunk | asleep:| or in | his rage,
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Or in | the incest|uous pleas|ure of | his bed,
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At gam|ing, swear|ing, or | about | some act
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That has | no rel|ish of | salva|tion in it,
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Then trip | him, that | his heels | may kick | at
heaven,
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And that | his soul | may be | as damned | and black
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As hell,| whereto | it goes.| My moth|er stays,
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This phy|sic but | prolongs | thy sick|ly days.
[Exit]
CLAUDIUS
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My words | fly up,| my thoughts | remain | below,
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Words with|out thoughts,| never | to heav|en go.
[Exit]