HAMLET Do you not come your tardy son to chide
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
Th’important acting of your dread command?
O say!
GHOST Do not forget! This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But look, amazement on thy mother sits!
O step between her and her fighting soul.
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.
HAMLET How is it with you, lady? (3.4.103-112)
Now Hamlet’s guilt-stricken, here he’s been yelling at his mother about her sex-life when he should be avenging his father’s death—although in fact he’s just failed to kill his father’s murderer, and killed someone else by mistake: do you not come your tardy son to chide that, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by th’important acting of your dread command? You’ve come to tell me off, haven’t you, to rebuke me for my inaction, my dithering, my delay, my lack of urgency? I know, I’ve been rubbish. O say! Say it! I deserve it!
And the Ghost doesn’t hold back: do not forget! You promised that you would REMEMBER ME! This visitation is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose; I’ve only come to tell you to get a move on, remind you of your promise, sharpen your avowed intent. (All you’ve stabbed—at least intentionally—is an arras.) But look, amazement on thy mother sits! She’s baffled, so confused and worried, she has no idea what’s going on. She can’t see me… O step between her and her fighting soul. Give her some comfort and reassurance (and Gertrude was in enough of a state, thanks to Hamlet’s accusations and vilifications, even before the Ghost appeared). She’s on the verge of a breakdown. Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works; at the moment she’s just imagining the worst, she can’t help it, women are like that, suggestible, you know? You’ve pushed her hard enough, she’s on the edge. Speak to her, Hamlet.
And so he does, polite, formal, conciliatory, utterly bathetic: how is it with you, lady? how are things? are you, you know, OK? broadly speaking?