ACT 3, SCENE 3
Claudius, having abruptly fled from Hamlet's play in a rush of pent-up guilt and desperation, kneels on the palace floor, having begged for the repentance of his sins to Almighty God. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, the one Claudius has scarred the most by way of sword and marriage and emotional anguish, sees his chance to enact his revenge.
[Hamlet enters.]
HAMLET
Now I might do it, now he is a-praying. And now I will do it.
[The sword is drawn.]
. . .But now I cannot, as death now will only send him to heaven, and so my revenge is all for not.
So it goes: A villain murders my father, and in response, I, his only son, deliver the very same villain swift to heaven.
Why, this is friendship and charity, not revenge. He took my father's life grossly, well-fed and crowned and with pockets full of gold; with all his crimes brought to bear, face flush as scarlet blood, now being inspected and prepared for heaven.
In this circumstance, his head heavy with thought and rumination, am I to seize my revenge during the purging of his soul, so fit and seasoned for passage into the Kingdom of Heaven?
No.
Up my sword goes, to (later) seize a more horrid sight.
[The sword is sheathed.]
When he is drunk asleep, or in most volatile rage, or wrapped in the incestuous pleasures of his bedside, or at a game, swearing away, or performing some act that has no relish, not an iota of salvation in its grasp—Then, I shall trip him up so quick and mighty that his heels may kick towards the heavens, that his soul may be as damned and black as Hell itself, where it shall go.
Meanwhile, my mother stays, as a psychic meant only to prolong the sickly days of all our minds.
[Hamlet exits.]
