O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:
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.