Ham. It would cost you a groning to take them off.
Ofel. Still better and worse.
Ham. So you must take your husband, begin. Murdred
Begin, a poxe, leaue thy damnable faces and begin, 165
Come, the croking rauen doth bellow for reuenge.
Murd. Thoughts blacke, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing.
Confederate season, else no creature seeing:
Thou mixture rancke, of midnight weedes collected,
With Hecates bane thrise blasted, thrise infected, 170
Thy naturall magicke, and dire propertie,
One wholesome life vsurps immediately. exit.
Ham. He poysons him for his estate.
King Lights, I will to bed.
Cor. The king rises, lights hoe. 175
Exeunt King and Lordes.
Ham. What, frighted with false fires?
Then let the stricken deere goe weepe,
The Hart vngalled play,
For some must laugh, while some must weepe,
Thus runnes the world away. 180
Hor. The king is mooued my lord.