QUEEN GERTRUDE

    Alas, how is't with you,
    That you do bend your eye on vacancy
    And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
    Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
    And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
    Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
    Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
    Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
    Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

QUEEN GERTRUDE

    To whom do you speak this?

QUEEN GERTRUDE

    Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

    No, nothing but ourselves.

QUEEN GERTRUDE

    This the very coinage of your brain:
    This bodiless creation ecstasy
    Is very cunning in.