reginalds:Gertrude. O gentle son, upon the heat and flame of thy distemper sprinkle cool patience. W
reginalds:Gertrude. O gentle son, upon the heat and flame of thy distemper sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? Hamlet. On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones, would make them capable. Do not look upon me; lest with this piteous action you convert my stern effects: then what I have to do will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. -- source link
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