Now, Mother.

What's the matter?

- Hamlet.

Thou hast thy father much offended.

Mother, you have my father much offended.

Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

Why, how now, Hamlet!

- What's the matter now?

Have you forgot me?

No, not so.

You are the queen.

Your husband's brother's wife.

And--would it were not so!

You are my mother.

- Nay.

Then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

Come and sit you down.

You shall not budge.

You go not till I set you up a glass where you may see the innermost part of you.

What wilt thou do?

Thou wilt not murder me?

Help!

Ho!

Oh no, help!

How now!

a rat?

Dead for Duckett.

Dead.

Holy... What hast thou done?

Nay, I know not.

Is it the king?

Oh, 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.

Foul, 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 ringing of your hands.

Peace.

Sit you down and let me ring your heart, for so I shall if it be made of penetrable stuff.

If damned custom have not brass'd it so That it be proof and bulwark against sense.

What have I done, that thou darest 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 statue is old.

What act?

- Look here upon this picture.

And on this, the counterfeit presentment of two brothers.

See what a grace was seated on this brow.

Hyperion curls, the front of Jove himself.

This was your husband.

Look, you now what follows.

Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear blasting his wholesome brother.

Have you eyes?

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed and batten on this more?

Have you eyes?