A room in the castle.
There’s matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: You must translate: ’tis fit we understand them. Where is your son?
Bestow this place on us a little while. Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern . Ah, mine good lord, what have I seen to-night!
Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit, Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries, “A rat, a rat!” And, in this brainish apprehension, kills The unseen good old man.