Watch Hamlet's tragic protagonist confront his mother, Queen Gertrude, and accidentally kill Polonius

Watch Hamlet's tragic protagonist confront his mother, Queen Gertrude, and accidentally kill Polonius

Hamlet confronts his mother and mistakenly kills Polonius in Act III, scene 4, of Shakespeare's Hamlet.
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Transcript

HAMLET: Mother!

POLONIUS: I'll silence me in here.
Pray you, be round with him.

HAMLET: Mother!

QUEEN GERTRUDE: I'll warrant you.

POLONIUS: Be round with him.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Fear me not.

HAMLET: Now, mother, what's the matter?

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

HAMLET: Mother, you have my father much offended.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

HAMLET: Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Why, how now, Hamlet!

HAMLET: What's the matter now?

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Have you forgot me?

HAMLET: No, by the rood, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

HAMLET: Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
Help, help, ho!

LORD POLONIUS: What, ho! help!

HAMLET: How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!

QUEEN GERTRUDE: What hast thou done?

HAMLET: Nay, I know not: It's the king?

QUEEN GERTRUDE: O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

HAMLET: A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: As kill a king!

HAMLET: 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.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?

HAMLET: 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.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: O Hamlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.

HAMLET: Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nasty sty,--

QUEEN GERTRUDE: O, speak to me no more;
These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
No more, sweet Hamlet!

HAMLET: A murderer and a villain;
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!

QUEEN GERTRUDE: No more!

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