midnight
Forgive me my foul murder ? That can not be , since I am still possessed Of those effects for which I did the murder , My crown , mine own ambition and my queen , May one be pardoned and retain the offense ? In the corrupted currents of this world Offense 's gilded hand may shove by justice , And oft 't is seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law ; but 't is not so above ; There , is no shuffling , there , the action lies In his true nature , and we ourselves compelled Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence ! '' _ In the midnight interview of Hamlet with his mother , Polonius hides behind a curtain to spy upon the words of the `` melancholy Dane , '' and is killed by a sword thrust of Hamlet , who exclaims : _ `` How now ! a rat , dead for a ducat . '' _ Then Hamlet holds his mother to the talk and pours these lines of liquid gall into her trembling ear and frightened heart : _ `` Look here , upon this picture , and on this , The counterfeit presentment of two brothers . See what a grace was seated on this brow ; Hyperion 's curls , the front of Jove himself , An eye like Mars , to threaten and command ; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination and a form indeed , Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man ; This was your husband .