Ham. 
How is it with you, lady?

Queen. 
Alas, how is’t with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? 
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Start up and stand an end.  O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience!  Whereon do you look?

Ham. 
On him, on him!  Look you how pale he glares! 
His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable.—­Do not look upon me;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects:  then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.

Queen. 
To whom do you speak this?

Ham. 
Do you see nothing there?

Queen. 
Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

Ham. 
Nor did you nothing hear?

Queen. 
No, nothing but ourselves.

Ham. 
Why, look you there! look how it steals away! 
My father, in his habit as he liv’d! 
Look, where he goes, even now out at the portal!

[Exit Ghost.]

Queen. 
This is the very coinage of your brain: 
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.

Ham. 
Ecstasy! 
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music:  it is not madness
That I have utter’d:  bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from.  Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: 
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen.  Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what’s past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker.  Forgive me this my virtue;
For in the fatness of these pursy times
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.

Queen. 
O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

Ham. 
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half. 
Good night:  but go not to mine uncle’s bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
That monster custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits evil, is angel yet in this,—­
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock or livery
That aptly is put on.  Refrain to-night;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence:  the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.  Once more, good-night: 
And when you are desirous to be bles’d,
I’ll blessing beg of you.—­For this same lord