HAMLET                     For this same lord

I do repent, but heaven hath pleased it so

To punish me with this, and this with me,

That I must be their scourge and minister.

I will bestow him and will answer well

The death I gave him. So again goodnight.

I must be cruel only to be kind.

This bad begins and worse remains behind.

One word more, good lady!  (3.4.170-178)

Ah yes, Polonius, there’s been a body visible or partly visible or just concealed throughout this scene, and Hamlet now again confronts the fact that he’s just killed someone and that there will be consequences. For this same lord I do repent—no, really, I DO—but heaven hath pleased it so to punish me with this, and this with me, that I must be their scourge and minister. I’m fated to have luck like this, for things to turn out badly; I can’t help it. I’ll face the consequences for having done this thing, but, well, he was asking for it, eavesdropping like that, and he’s faced the consequences too. But also: I’m not responsible for my own actions, not entirely; I’m on a mission from God! I am an agent of moral purgation! I know everything that’s WRONG here and I’m going to expose it and avenge it, if I die in the attempt. Polonius? he’s collateral damage. (Does Hamlet even believe this? he has to.) But I will bestow him—take the body somewhere else, I won’t leave it here for you to tidy up, mum (although there is sometimes a bloodstain left behind)—and will answer well the death I gave him. I can justify what I’ve done; I’m not going to deny it.

So again goodnight. (Hamlet knows that this parting has a finality to it; his killing of Polonius has only exacerbated the crisis. A line has been crossed—so many lines—and perhaps he wonders when he will see his mother again, let alone like this, just the two of them.) I must be cruel only to be kind! A desperate attempt at justification, exculpation: all those harsh things I’ve said, never mind the threats, the violence, the killing—it’s for your own good! (And kind as always in this play evokes kin: I’m only doing this because I’m my father’s son, because of the claims of blood and love, the claims of family and honour. And because I love you too, mum.) He completes the couplet, as if he’s really going now: this bad begins, and worse remains behind. I’ve really screwed up now, no going back; things are only going to get worse from now on.

But he can’t quite leave, can’t quite give up on the sense that he might find the right thing to say to his mother, the thing that will make the difference, although he doesn’t know what that might be, what he’s even trying to do or say any more: one word more, good lady!