make her laugh at that.-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander look'd o' this fashion i'the earth? Hor. E'en so. Ham. And smelt so? pah! [Throws down the scull. Hor. E'en so, my lord. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay, Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the corpse of OPHE- The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow ? And with such maimed rites! This doth betoken, The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand Ham. A very noble youth: Mark. Laer. What ceremony else? That is Laertes, 1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Laer. Must there no more be done? 1 Priest. No more be done! We should profane the service of the dead, To sing a requiem, and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls. Laer. Lay her i'the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!—I tell thee, churlish priest, When thou liest howling. Ham. Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell! What, the fair Ophelia! [Scattering flowers. I hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave. Laer. Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead; Ham. [Advancing.] What is he, whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, Hamlet the Dane. Laer. [Leaps into the grave. Ham. Thou pray'st not well. I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat; Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand. Queen. All. Gentlemen, Hor. Hamlet, Hamlet! Good my lord, be quiet. [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave. Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eyelids will no longer wag. Queen. O my son! what theme? Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers Make up my sum.-What wilt thou do for her? Queen. For love of God, forbear him. Ham. 'Zounds, show me what thou'lt do: Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? Woul't drink up Esil 124? eat a crocodile? Make Ossa like a wart! I'll rant as well as thou. Queen. Nay, an thou'lt mouth, This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclos'd 125, His silence will sit drooping. Ham. Hear you, sir ; What is the reason that you use me thus? I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter; Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. [Exit. King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.[Exit Horatio. Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; [To Laertes. We'll put the matter to the present push.- Till then, in patience our proceeding be. SCENE II. A Hall in the Castle. Enter HAMLET and HORATIO. [Exeunt. Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance? Hor. Remember it, my lord! Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fight ing, That would not let me sleep; methought, I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes 126. 127 Rashly, And prais'd be rashness for it,-Let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us, There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will. Hor. That is most certain. |