(Claudius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
enter.)
CLAUDIUS
I will be dispatching all three of you to England at once. I
don't like the look of things, and I don't like him on the
loose like this. Prepare to accompany him.
GUILDENSTERN
Very well, my lord. It is our duty to protect your majesty.
There are so many lives which depend on your wellbeing.
ROSENCRANTZ
The life of a king is the vital force which extends out into
all the lives of the kingdom. Never alone did the king sigh,
without a general groan.
CLAUDIUS
Prepare then for this speedy voyage. We will put fetters
upon this problem which currently ranges free-footed.
ROSENCRANTZ
We'll prepare at once, my lord.
(Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bow and
exit.)
(Polonius enters.)
POLONIUS
My lord, the Queen has summoned him to her chambers. I will
go there now, and place myself out of sight in order to
listen to what unfolds. It's better to have an audience
besides a mother listening in.
CLAUDIUS
Very well dear lord.
POLONIUS
I will call on you before you retire and relate the events.
(Polonius exits.)
CLAUDIUS
Oh, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven! It has the
curse of Cain upon it--a brother's murder! As much as I
desire to pray, my guilt defeats the intent. Bound between
the two, I stand in pause of where to begin. If my hands are
encrusted with my brother's blood, is there not rain enough
to wash them clean again? The reason for mercy is so we can
come face to face with an offence. Prayer is a two-fold
force. It helps prevent us from doing wrong, and pardons us
if we've fallen. But what prayer will serve my case?
"Forgive me my foul murder?" But what if I still possess the
effects for which I committed the act? A crown? A Queen?
Can one keep the gains and still be excused? In the
corrupted currents of this world, the guilty often shove
justice aside by bribing the law with spoils from the crime.
But not in heaven; there's no evasion there; and we ourselves
are compelled to cross every T and dot every I of all our
sins. What then? Try to repent win or lose? What can
repenting not do? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
What a wretched position! This heart is as black as death,
and the more my soul struggles, the more caught up it
becomes! Help, angels! All you can! Bow, stubborn knees!
(He kneels.)
(Enter Hamlet.)
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