TEXT:
HAMLET (continued)
A king of shreds and patches…
Enter Ghost
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
GERTRUDE
Alas, he's mad!
HAMLET
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command? O, say!
Ghost
Do not forget: this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.
HAMLET
How is it with you, lady?
GERTRUDE
Alas, how is't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
NOTES:
Ghosts in Shakespeare
John Mullan's very helpful article on ghosts in Shakespeare is available from the British Library website - click here.
Motley is the patterned style of clothing usually worn by medieval court fools. Shreds and patches - from Shakespeare to Gilbert and Sullivan - are a clear suggestion of motley.