GERTRUDE    O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

HAMLET         O throw away the worser part of it

And live the purer with the other half.

Goodnight, but go not to my uncle’s bed;

Assume a virtue if you have it not.

That monster Custom, who all sense doth eat

Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,

That to the use of actions fair and good

He likewise gives a frock or livery

That aptly is put on.              (3.4.154-163)

O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. You’ve destroyed me, by what you’ve said and how you’ve said it—and Gertrude addresses him by name. (Hamlet, of course, is also the name of her dead husband.) Hamlet goes again, pressing home his advantage, pressing on the bruise: O throw away the worser part of it and live the purer with the other half. Ditch him! Better to be alone than married to—that. Then, suddenly, it seems over: goodnight, but go not to my uncle’s bed. This is the crux of it, the most direct he’s been so far. Don’t sleep with him again, at least, not tonight. Assume a virtue if you have it not: pretend to be chaste even if you’re not, pretend you don’t want to, even if you do. And then a passage of wild obscurity: that monster Custom, who all sense doth eat of habits devil—just as custom habituates you to doing bad things—is angel yet in this—that same quality or capacity can be turned to good—that to the use of actions fair and good he likewise gives a frock or livery that aptly is put on. If you pretend to be virtuous and act accordingly, then you will, in time, be as virtuous as you seem. Fake it til you make it! (As it were.)