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Mother!
My lady!
Tell him your grace has stood between much heat and him.
I'll sconce me even here. Pray you, be round with him.
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Hamlet, thou have thy father much offended.
Mother, you have my father much offended.
- You answer with an idle tongue. - You question with a wicked tongue.
Why, how now, Hamlet?
- What's the matter now? - Have you forgot me?
No, by the rood, not so.
You're the queen, your husband's brother's wife, and, alas, my mother.
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
Come, come!
And sit you down.
You shall not budge.
You go not till I set you up a glass where you may see your inmost part.
What will thou do?
Thou will not *** me?
- Help, help, ho! - What, ho! Help, help, help!
How now! A rat?
Dead for a ducat!
Dead!
- O me, what have thou done? - Nay, I know not. Is it the king?
O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Almost as bad, good mother, as kill a king and marry his brother.
As kill a king?
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
I took thee for thy better.
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.