Ham. How does the Queene?
King. She sounds to see them bleede
Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke.
Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke,
I am poyson'd
Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd.
Treacherie, seeke it out
Laer. It is heere Hamlet.
Hamlet, thou art slaine,
No Medicine in the world can do thee good.
In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life;
The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand,
Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise
Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye,
Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd:
I can no more, the King, the King's too blame
Ham. The point envenom'd too,
Then venome to thy worke.
Hurts the King.
All. Treason, Treason
King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt
Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous,
Damned Dane,
Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere?
Follow my Mother.
King Dyes.