God wanted to punish me with this murder, and this man with me, so
I'm both Heaven's executioner and its minister
of justice. This is bad, but it'll get worse soon. Oh,
and one other thing, madam.
GERTRUDE
What shall I do?
GERTRUDE
What should I do?
HAMLET
185
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do—
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed,
Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse,
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses
Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers,
190
Make you to ravel all this matter out:
That I essentially am not in madness
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know,
For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
195
Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep
200
And break your own neck down.
HAMLET
Whatever you do, don't do this: let the fat king seduce
you into his bed again, so he can pinch your cheek, call you his
bunny, and with filthy kisses and a massage of your neck with his
damned fingers, make you admit that my madness is fake, all
calculated. What a great idea that would be, because why would a
fair, sober, wise queen hide such things from a toad, a pig, a
monster like him? Who would do that? No, no, it's
much, much better to spill the beans
right away, let the cat out of the bag, and break your neck in the
process.
GERTRUDE
Be thou assured, if words be made of breath
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.
GERTRUDE
You can rest easy, since words are made of breath, and breathing
requires that you be alive. I feel too dead to breathe a word of
what you've told me.
