CLAUDIUS: So what if this cursed hand is coated with brother’s blood? Is there not enough rain in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow? Won’t God’s mercy cancel my sins? And doesn’t prayer serve two purposes—to prevent sin as well as to forgive it?
Then I’ll look up to heaven! My sin is behind me.
But oh, what kind of prayer is there for me? “Forgive me my foul murder”?
That cannot be, since I still possess the rewards I sought with that murder: my crown, my satisfaction, and my queen. May one be pardoned and still keep the fruits of his crime?
In this corrupted world, criminals can use the very money they stole to buy off the law and shove aside justice. But it’s not so in heaven! Up there, every action is judged for what it’s worth, and we must confront our crimes.
What then? What’s left to do? Offer what repentance I can— Oh, what a wretched situation! My heart is as black as death. The more my soul struggles, the more it sticks to my sin. Help, angels! Do something.
Bow, stubborn knees!
Steely heart, be soft as a newborn babe. All may still turn out well.
HAMLET: I might do it easily now.