stopping a bunghole?
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 into 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 Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O, that that earth which kept the world in awe
Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!
But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King-
Enter [priests with] a
coffin [in
funeral procession], King,
Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.]
The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow?
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand
Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.
Couch we
awhile, and mark.
[Retires with Horatio.]
Laer. What
ceremony else?
Ham. That is Laertes,
A very noble youth. Mark.
Laer. What
ceremony else?
Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
Till the last
trumpet. For
charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
Yet here she is allow'd her
virgin crants,
Her
maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.
Laer. Must there no more be done?
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' th' earth;
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be
When thou liest howling.
Ham. What, the fair Ophelia?
Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.
[Scatters flowers.]
I hop'd thou shouldst 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. O,
treble woe
Fall ten times
treble on that cursed head
Whose
wicked deed thy most
ingenious sense
Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth
awhile,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.
Leaps in the grave.
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead
Till of this flat a mountain you have made
T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.
Ham. [comes forward] 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. [Leaps in after Laertes.
Laer. The devil take thy soul!
[Grapples with him].
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
I prithee take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy
wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!
King. Pluck thein asunder.
Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet!
All. Gentlemen!
Hor. 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
Could not (with all their quantity of love)
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Queen. For love of God,
forbear him!
Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do.
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I.
And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen. This is mere madness;
And thus a while the fit will work on him.
Anon, as patient as the
female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,
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.
[To Laertes] Strengthen your
patience in our last night's speech.
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 see;
Till then in
patience our
proceeding be.
Exeunt.
Scene II.
Elsinore. A hall in the Castle.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
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 fighting
That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay
Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly-
And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know,
Our indiscretion
sometime serves us well
When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn 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,
My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire,
Finger'd their
packet, and in fine withdrew
To mine own room again; making so bold
(My fears forgetting manners) to unseal
Their grand
commission; where I found, Horatio
(O royal knavery!), an exact command,
Larded with many several sorts of reasons,
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life-
That, on the
supervise, no
leisure bated,
No, not to stay the
finding of the axe,
My head should be struck off.
Hor. Is't possible?
Ham. Here's the
commission; read it at more
leisure.
But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?
Hor. I
beseech you.
Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,
Or I could make a
prologue to my brains,
They had begun the play. I sat me down;
Devis'd a new
commission; wrote it fair.
I once did hold it, as our statists do,
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
How to forget that
learning; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know
Th' effect of what I wrote?
Hor. Ay, good my lord.
Ham. An
earnest conjuration from the King,
As England was his
faithful tributary,
As love between them like the palm might flourish,
As peace should still her wheaten
garland wear
And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
And many such-like as's of great charge,
That, on the view and
knowing of these contents,
Without debatement further, more or less,
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
Not shriving time allow'd.
Hor. How was this seal'd?
Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
I had my father's signet in my purse,
which was the model of that Danish seal;
Folded the writ up in the form of th' other,
Subscrib'd it, gave't th'
impression, plac'd it safely,
The changeling never known. Now, the next day
Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
Thou know'st already.
Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment!
They are not near my
conscience; their defeat
Does by their own insinuation grow.
'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of
mighty opposites.
Hor. Why, what a king is this!
Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon-
He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother;
Popp'd in between th'
election and my hopes;
Thrown out his angle for my Proper life,
And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect
conscienceTo quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd
To let this
canker of our nature come
In further evil?
Hor. It must be
shortly known to him from England
What is the issue of the business there.
Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine,
And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.'
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself,
For by the image of my cause I see