Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love, for at your age 68
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
Would step from this to this? [Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense 72
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice, 75
To serve in such a difference.] What devil was 't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
[Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense 80
Could not so mope.]
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 84
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
Queen. O Hamlet! speak no more;
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; 89
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.
67 batten: grow fat on
moor: a barren upland; cf. n.
69 hey-day: state of excitement, youthful high spirits
71 Sense: reasoning power
72 motion: emotion (?)
73 apoplex'd: atrophied
74 thrall'd: enslaved
75 quantity of choice: power to choose
76 difference: disagreement
77 cozen'd: cheated
hoodman-blind: blind man's buff
79 sans: without
81 mope: act aimlessly
83 mutine: rise in mutiny
86 charge: command
88 panders: ministers to the gratifications of
90 grained: ingrained
91 tinct: color
