Read it through once

_Laer._ (R.) It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain; No medicine in the world can do thee good, In thee there is not half an hour's life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom'd:[77] the foul practice[78] Hath turn'd itself on me; lo, here I lie, Never to rise again: Thy mother's poison'd: I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.