Ophelia
You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
Hamlet
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
Ophelia
Still better, and worse.
Hamlet
So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer; pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come: “the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.”
Lucianus
Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.
Pours the poison into the sleeper’s ears.
Hamlet
He poisons him i’ the garden for’s estate. His name’s Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago’s wife.
Ophelia
The king rises.
Hamlet
What, frighted with false fire!
Queen
How fares my lord?