He’s fat, and scant of breath.
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows;
The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
Gertrude, do not drink.
I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.
[Aside] It is the poison’d cup: it is too late.
I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.
Come, let me wipe thy face.
My lord, I’ll hit him now.
I do not think’t.
[Aside] And yet ’tis almost ‘gainst my conscience.
Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
I pray you, pass with your best violence;
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
Say you so? come on.
Nothing, neither way.
Have at you now!
LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES
Part them; they are incensed.
Nay, come, again.
QUEEN GERTRUDE falls
Look to the queen there, ho!
They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?
How is’t, Laertes?
Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.