your water is a fore decayer of your whorefon dead body. Here's a fcull now has lain in the earth three and twenty years. Ham. Whofe was it? Clown. A whorefon mad fellow's it was; whofe do you think it was? Ham. Nay, I know not. Clown. A peftilence on him for a mad rogue! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once. This fame fcull, Sir, was Yorick's fcull, the King's jefter. Ham. This? Clown. E'en that. Ham. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Haratio, a fellow of infinite jeft; of moft excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rifes at it. Here hung thofe lips, that I have kifs'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols? your fongs? yout flashes of merriment, that were wont to fet the table in a roar? not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap fallen? now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my Lord? Ham. Doft thou think, Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth? Hor. E'en fo. Hàm. And fmelt fo, puh? [Smelling to the Scull. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! why may not imagination trace the noble duft of Alexander, 'till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to confider too curioufly, to confi der fo. Ham. No, faith, not a jot: But to follow him thither with modefty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to duft; the duft is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not ftop a beer- barrel? Imperial Cafar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might ftop a hole to keep the wind away: Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a coffin, with Lords, and Priests, attendant. The Queen, the Courtiers. What is that they follow, Ham. That is Laertes, a most noble youth: mark- Priest. Her obfequies have been fo far enlarg'd Her maiden-ftrewments, and the bringing home Laer. Muft no more be done? Prieft. No more be done! We should profane the service of the dead, As to peace-parted fouls. * - allow'd her virgin rites,] The old Quarto reads Virgin Crants, evidently corrupted from Chants, which is the true Word. P 3 Laer. Laer. Lay her i'th' earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh Ham. What, the fair Ophelia! Queen. Sweets to the fweet, farewel! I hop'd, thou fhould't have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, fweet maid. And not have firew'd thy Grave. Låer. O treble woe Fall ten times treble on that curfed head," [Laertes leaps into the Grave.". Now pile your duft upon the quick and dead, 'Till of this flat a mountain you have made, T'o'er-top old Pelion, or the fkyish head Of blue Olympus. Ham. [difcovering himfelf.] What is he, whofe griefs Bear fuch an emphafis? whofe phrase of forrow Conjures the wandring ftars, and makes them ftand Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, Hamlet the Dane. [Hamlet leaps into the Grave. Laer. The Devil take thy foul! [Grappling with him. I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat- Yet have I in me fomething dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand. Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. [The attendants part them. Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eye-lids will no longer wag. Queen. Queen. Oh my fon! what theme? Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thoufand brothers Make up my fum. What wilt thou do for her? Queen. For love of God, forbear him. [felf? Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thy Woo't drink up * eifel, eat a crocodile ? I'll do't-Doft thou come hither but to whine? Queen. This is mere madness ; And thus a while the Fit will work on him : E'er that her golden couplets are disclos'd Ham. Hear you, Sir What is the reason that you ufe me thus ? The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. [Exit. [Exit Hor. Strengthen your patience in your last night's speech. [To Laertes. We'll put the matter to the prefent push. Good Gertrude, fet fome watch over your fon : 'Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt. Eifel.] Vinegar. -against the burning Zone,] We should read, Sun. SCENE Changes to a HALL, in the Palace. Enter Hamlet and Horatio. Ham. You do remember all the circumftance? O much for this, now shall you fee the other Hor. Remember it, my lord? Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us, Hor. That is most certain. My fea-gown scarft about me, in the dark Hor. Is't poffible? Ham. Here's the commiffion, read it at more leisure; But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? Hor. I befeech you. Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villains, (Ere I could mark the prologue to my Bane They had begun the Play :) I fat me down, Devis'd |