Read it through once

_Ghost._ Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, Won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming virtuous queen: O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity, That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage; and to decline Upon a wretch,[108] whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; Brief let me be.--Sleeping within mine orchard, My custom always in the afternoon, Upon my secure[109] hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon[110] in a vial, And in the porches of mine ears did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man, That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body; So did it mine; Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:[111] Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;[112] No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head.