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your water is a fore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a scull now has lain in the earth three and twenty years.
Ham. Whose was it?
Clown. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; whose do you think it was?
Ham. Nay, I know not.
Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once. This same scull, Sir, was Yorick's scull, the King's jester.
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 rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set 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 savour she must come; make her laugh at that–Pr’ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
Hor. What's that, my Lord ?
Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander look'do this fashion i' th' earth?
Hor. E'en so.
lord. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! why may not imagination trace ihe noble duft 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 duft; 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? Imperial Cafar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall t'expel the winter's flaw ! But foft? but soft a while-here comes the King,
S CE N E II. Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a coffin, with Lords,
and Priests, attendant. The Queen, the Courtiers. What is that they follow, And with such maimed rites ? this doth betoken, The coarse, they follow, did with desperate hand Foredo its own life; 'was of some estate. Couch we a while, and mark. Laer. What
else? Ham. That is Laertes, a most noble youth: markLaer. What ceremony else ?
Prieft. Her obsequies have been so far enlarg'd As we have warranty; her death was doubtful; And but that great Command o'er-sways the order, She should in ground unsandified have lodg'd 'Till the laft Trump. For charitable prayers, Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her; Yet here she is * allow'd her virgin chants, Her maiden-strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial.
Laer. Must no more be done ?
Priest. No more be done !
- allow'd her virgin rites,] The old Quarto reads Virgin Crants, evidently corrupted from Chants, which is the true Word.
Laer. Lay her i'th' earth;
Ham. What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet, farewel!
Låer. O treble woe
[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 skyish head Of blue Olympus.
Ham. [discovering himself.] What is he,.whose griess Bear such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandring stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers ? this is I,
[Hamlet leaps into the Grave. Hamlet the Dane.
Laer. The Devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him.
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
King. Pluck them asunder
(The attendants part them. Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eye-lids will no longer wag.
Queen. Oh my son! what theme?
Ham. I lov'd' Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers
King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Ham. Come, shew me what thou'lt do. (self? Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyWoo't drink
* eisel, eat a crocodile ?
Queen. This is mere madnefs ;
Ham. Hear you, Sir-
may, The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. [Exit. King. I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.
[Exit Hor. Strengthen your patience in your last night's speech.
(To Laertes. We'll put the matter to the present push. Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son: This Grave shall have a living Monument. An hour of quiet shortly shall we fee ; Till then, in patience our proceeding be. (Exéunt. * Eifel.] Vinegar. against the burning Zone,] We should read, Sun.
Hamo S You do remember all the circumstance ?
S CE N E III.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
Hor. Remember it, my lord ?
Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, That would not let me sleep; methought, I lay Worse than the mutines in the Bilboes ; Rashness (And prais'd be rashness for it) lets us know; Or indiscretion sometimes ferves us well, When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us, There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
Hor. That is most certain.
Ham. Up from my cabin,
Hor. Is't possible ?
Ham. Here's the commission, read it at more leisure; But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed ?
Hor. I beseech you.
Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villains, (Ere I could mark the prologue to my Bane They had begun the Play :) I sat me down,