e so to the soule, that presently
They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake
With most myraculous Organ.[2] Ile haue these Players,
Play something like the murder of my Father,
Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,
[Sidenote: 137] Ile tent him to the quicke: If he but blench[3]
[Sidenote: if a doe blench]
I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
[Sidenote: 48] May[4] be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power
[Sidenote: May be a deale, and the deale]
T'assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,[5]
As he is very potent with such Spirits,[6]
[Sidenote: 46] Abuses me to damne me.[7] Ile haue grounds
More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.
_Exit._

* * * * *

SUMMARY.

The division between the second and third acts is by common consent
placed here. The third act occupies the afternoon, evening, and night of
the same day with the second.

This soliloquy is Hamlet's first, and perhaps we may find it correct to
say _only_ outbreak of self-accusation. He charges himself with lack of
feeling, spirit, and courage, in that he has not yet taken vengeance on
his uncle. But unless we are prepared to accept and justify to the full
his own hardest words against himself, and grant him a muddy-mettled,
pigeon-livered rascal, we must examine and understand him, so as to
account for his conduct better than he could himself. If we allow that
perhaps he accuses himself too much, we may find on reflection that he
accuses himself altogether wrongfully. If a man is content to think the
worst of Hamlet, I care to hold no argument with that man.

We must not look for _expressed_ logical sequence in a soliloquy, which
is a vocal mind. The mind is seldom conscious of the links or
transitions of a yet perfectly logical process developed in it. This
remark, however, is more necessary in regard to the famous soliloquy to
follow.

In Hamlet, misery has partly choked even vengeance; and although sure in
his heart that his uncle is guilty, in his brain he is not sure.
Bitterly accusing himself in an access of wretchedness and rage and
credence, he forgets the doubt that has restrained him, with all besides
which he might so well urge in righteous de