A churchyard.
Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c.

First Clo.
Is she to be buried in Christian
burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Sec. Clo.
I tell thee she is; and therefore
make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat
on her, and finds it Christian burial.

First Clo.
How can that be, unless she
drowned herself in her own defence?

Sec. Clo.
Why, 'tis found so.

First Clo.
It must be 'se offendendo;' it
cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I
drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and
an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do,
and to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

Sec. Clo.
Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,—

First Clo.
Give me leave. Here lies the
water; good: here stands the man; good; if
the man go to this water, and drown himself,
it is, will he, nill he, he goes,— mark you that;
that; but if the water come to him and drown him,
he drowns not himself: argal, he that is not
guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Sec. Clo.
But is this law?

First Clo.
Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Sec. Clo.
Will you ha' the truth on't? If
this had not been a gentlewoman, she should
have been buried out o' Christian burial.

First Clo.
Why, there thou say'st: and the
more pity that great folk should have countenance
in this world to drown or hang themselves,
more than their even Christian. Come,
my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but
gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they
hold up Adam's profession.

Sec. Clo.
Was he a gentleman?

First Clo.
A' was the first that ever bore arms. (39)

Sec. Clo.
Why, he had none.

First Clo.
What, art a heathen? How dost
thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture
says 'Adam digged:' could he dig without
arms? I'll put another question to thee:
if thou answerert me not to the purpose, confess thyself—

Sec. Clo.
Go to.

First Clo.
What is he that builds stronger
than either the mason, the shipwright, or the

Sec. Clo.
The gallows-maker; for that (50)
frame outlives a thousand tenants.

First Clo.
I like thy wit well, in good
faith: the gallows does well; but how does it
well? it does well to those that do ill: now
thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger
than the church: argal, the gallows may do
well to thee. To't again, come.

Sec. Clo.
'Who builds stronger than a mason,
a shipwright, or a carpenter?'

First Clo.
Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. (60)

Sec. Clo.
Marry, now I can tell.

First Clo.

Sec. Clo.
Mass, I cannot tell. Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance.

First Clo.
Cudgel thy brains no more
about it, for your dull ass will not mend his
pace with beating; and, when you are asked
this question next, say 'a grave-maker:' the
houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go,
get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a stoup of
liquor. [Exit Sec. Clown. [He digs, and sings.

In youth, when I did love, did love,
70 Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
Methought, there was nothing meet.

Has this fellow no feeling of his
business, that he sings at grave-making?

Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment
hath the daintier sense.

First Clo.
But age, with his stealing steps,
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
As if I had never been such.

[Throws up a skull.

That skull had a tongue in it, and
could sing once: how the knave jowls it to
the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that
did the first murder! It might be the pate of
a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches;
one that would circumvent God, might it not? (89)

It might, my lord.

Or of a courtier; which could say
'Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou,
good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one,
that praised my lord such-a-one's horse,
when he meant to beg it; might it not?

Ay, my lord.

Why, e'en so: and now my Lady
Worm's; chapless, and knocked about the
mazzard with a sexton's spade: here's fine
revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did
these bones cost no more the breeding, but to
play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clo.
A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
For and a shrouding sheet:
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

[Throws up another skull.

There's another: why may not that
be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities
now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures,
and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude
knave now to knock him about the sconce with
a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action
of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
his recognizances, his fines, his double
vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his
fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to
have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his
vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases,
and double ones too, than the length and
breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances
of his lands will hardly lie in this
box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

Not a jot more, my lord.

Is not parchment made of sheep-skins?

Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

They are sheep and calves which
seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this
fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?

First Clo.
Mine, sir. [Sings]

O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

I think it be thine, indeed; for thou
liest in't.

First Clo.
You lie out on't, sir, and therefore
it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie
in't and yet it is mine.

Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say
it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick;
therefore thou liest.

First Clo.
'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away (140)
again, from me to you.

What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clo.
For no man, sir.

What woman, then?

First Clo.
For none, neither.

Who is to be buried in't?

First Clo.
One that was a woman, sir; but,
rest her soul, she's dead.

How absolute the knave is! we must
speak by the card, or equivocation will undo
us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I
have taken note of it; the age is grown so
picked that the toe of the peasant comes so
near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.
How long hast thou been a grave-maker?

First Clo.
All the days i' the year, I
came to't that day that our last king Hamlet
overcame Fortinbras.

How long is that since?

First Clo.
Cannot you tell that? every fool
can tell that: it was the very day that young
Hamlet was born; he that is mad, and sent
into England.

Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clo.
Why, because he was mad: he
shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not,
it's no great matter there.


First Clo.
'Twill not be seen in him there; (170)
there the men are as mad as he.

How came he mad?

First Clo.
Very strangely, they say.

How strangely?

First Clo.
Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

Upon what ground?

First Clo.
Why, here in Denmark: I have
been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

How long will a man lie i' the earth
ere he rot?

First Clo.
I' faith, if he be not rotten before
he die—as we have many pocky corses
now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in
—he will last you some eight year or nine
year: a tanner will last you nine year.

Why he more than another?

First Clo.
Why, sir, his hide is so tanned
with his trade, that he will keep out water a
great while; and your water is a sore decayer
of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull
now; this skull has lain in the earth three and (191)
twenty years.

Whose was it?

First Clo.
A whoreson mad fellow's it was:
whose do you think it was?

Nay, I know not.

First Clo.
A pestilence on him for a mad
rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my
head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's
skull, the king's jester. (200)


First Clo.
E'en that.

Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas,
poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most 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 kissed 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 on 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
favor she must come; make her laugh at that.
Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

What's that, my lord?

Dost thou think Alexander looked o'
this fashion i' the earth? (220)

E'en so.

And smelt so? pah! [Puts down the skull.

E'en so, my lord.

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?

'Twere to consider too curiously, to
consider so.

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 Cæsar, 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 to expel the winter's flaw!

But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king, Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the Corpse of OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING, QUEEN, their trains, &c.

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

Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.

A very noble youth: mark. [Retiring with Horatio.

What ceremony else?

That is Laertes,

A noble youth, mark.

What ceremony else?

First Priest.
Her obsequies have been as far enlarged

As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; (251)

And, but that great command o'ersways the order,

She should in ground unsanctified have lodged

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.

Must there no more be done?

First Priest.
No more be done:

We should profane the service of the dead (260)

To sing a requiem and such rest to her

As to peace-parted souls.

Lay her i' the earth:

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,

A ministering angel shall my sister be,

When thou liest howling.

What, the fair Ophelia!

Sweets to the sweet: farewell! [Scattering flowers.

I hoped 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.

O, treble woe (270)

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,

Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense

Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,

Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: Leaps into the grave.

Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,

Till of this flat a mountain you have made,

To o'erton old Pelion, or the skyish head

Of blue Olympus.

What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow

Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand (280)

Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,

Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave.

The devil take thy soul! [Grappling with him.

Thou pray'st not well.

I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;

For, though I am not splenitive and rash,

Yet have I something in me dangerous,

Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

Pluck them asunder.

Hamlet, Hamlet!


Good my lord, be quiet. [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.

Why, I will fight with him upon this theme (290)

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

O my son, what theme?

I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers

Could not, with all their quantity of love,

Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

O, he is mad, Laertes.

For love of God, forbear him.

'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:

Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?

Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? (300)

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.

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 disclosed,

His silence will sit drooping. (311)

Hear you, sir;

What is the reason that you use me thus?

I loved 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.

I pray you, 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. (320)

This grave shall have a living monument:

An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then, in patience our proceeding be.


A hall in the castle.

So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other;

You do remember all the circumstance?

Remember it, my lord!

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. Rashly,

And praised be rashness for it, let us know,

Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,

When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us (10)

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will,—

That is most certain.

Up from my cabin,

My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark

Groped 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, (20)

Larded with many several sorts of reasons

Importing Denmark's health and England's too,

With ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,

That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,

No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,

My head should be struck off.

Is't possible?

Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.

But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?

I beseech you.

Being thus be-netted round with villanies,— (30)

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,

They had begun the play—I sat me down,

Devised a new commission, wrote it fair:

I once did hold it, as our statists do,

A baseness to write fair and labor'd much

How to forget that learning, but, sir, now

It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know

The effect of what I wrote?

Ay, good my lord.

An earnest conjuration from the king,

As England was his faithful tributary, (40)

As love between them like the palm might flourish,

As peace should still her wheaten garland wear

And stand a comma 'tween their amities,

Ard many such-like 'As'es 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.

How was this seal'd?

Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.

I had my father's signet in my purse, (50)

Which was the model of that Danish seal;

Folded the writ up in form of the other,

Subscribed it, gave 't the impression, placed it safely,

The changeling never known. Now, the next day

Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent

Thou know'st already.

So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.

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 (61)

Between the pass and fell incensed points

Of mighty opposites.

Why, what a king is this!

Does it not, think'st thee, stand me, now upon—

He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother,

Popp'd in between the election and my hopes,

Thrown out his angle for my proper life,

And with such cozenage—is't not perfect conscience,

To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd,

To let this canker of our nature come (70)

In further evil?

It must be shortly known to him from England

What is the issue of the business there.

It will be short: the interim is mine;

And a man's life's 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

The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours:

But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me

Into a towering passion. (80)

Peace! who comes here? Enter OSRIC.

Your lordship is right welcome back
to Denmark.

I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know
this water-fly?

No. my good lord.

Thy state is the more gracious; for
'tis a vice to know him. He hath much land,
and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and
his crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'tis a
chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession (90)
of dirt.

Sweet lord, if your lordship were at
leisure, I should impart a thing to you from
his majesty.

I will receive it, sir, with all diligence
of spirit. Put our bonnet to his right use; 'tis
for the head.

I thank your lordship, it is very hot.

No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the (99)
wind is northerly.

It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

But yet methinks it is very sultry and
hot for my complexion.

Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—
as 'twere,—I cannot tell how. But, my
lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that
he has laid a great wager on your head: sir,
this is the matter,—

I beseech you, remember— [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.

Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in
good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court
Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman,
full of most excellent differences, of very soft
society and great showing: indeed, to speak
feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of
gentry, for you shall find in him the continent
of what part a gentleman would see.

Sir, his definement suffers no perdition
in you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially
would dizzy the arithmetic of memory,
and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his
quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I
take him to be a soul of great article; and his
infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to
make true direction of him, his semblable is his
his mirror; and who else would trace him, his
his umbrage, nothing more.

Your lordship speaks most infallibly
of him.

The concernancy, sir? why do we
wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? (130)


Is't not possible to understand in another
tongue? You will do't, sir, really.

What imports the nomination of this

Of Laertes?

His purse is empty already; all's
golden words are spent.

Of him, sir. (139)

I know you are not ignorant—

I would you did, sir; yet, in faith,
if you did, it would not much approve me.
Well. sir?

You are not ignorant of what excellence
Laertes is—

I dare not confess that, lest I should
compare with him in excellence; but, to know
a man well, were to know himself.

I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in
the imputation laid on him by them, in his (150)
meed he's unfellowed.

What's his weapon?

Rapier and dagger.

That's two of his weapons: but, well.

The king, sir, hath wagered with him
six Barbary horses: against the which he has
imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and
poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,
and so: three of the carriages, in faith, are
very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts,
most delicate carriages, and of very liberal

What call you the carriages?

I knew you must be edified by the
margent ere you had done.

The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

The phrase would be more german
to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our
sides: I would it might be hangers till then.
But, on: six Barbary horses against six French
swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited
carriages; that's the French bet against
the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it?

The king, sir, hath laid, that in a
dozen passes between yourself and him, he
shall not exceed you three hits: he hath laid
on twelve for nine; and it would come to immediate
trial, if your lordship would vouchsafe
the answer.

How if I answer 'no'?

I mean, my lord, the opposition of (179)
your person in trial.

Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if
it please his majesty, 'tis the breathing time of
day with me; let the foils be brought, the gentleman
willing, and the king hold his purpose,
I will win for him an I can; if not, I will gain
nothing but my shame and the odd hits.

Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?

To this effect, sir; after what flourish
your nature will.

I commend my duty to your lordship.

Yours, yours. [Exit Osric. He
does well to commend it himself; there are no
tongues else for's turn.

This lapwing runs away with the shell
on his head.

He did comply with his dug, before
he sucked it. Thus has he—and many more of
the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes
on—only got the tune of the time and outward
habit of encounter; a kind of yesty collection,
which carries them through and through the
most fond and winnowed opinions; and do
but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are
out. Enter a Lord.

My lord, his majesty commended
him to you by young Osric, who brings back
to him, that you attend him in the hall: he
sends to know if your pleasure hold to play
with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.

I am constant to my purposes; they
follow the king's pleasure: if his fitness speaks,
mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided (211)

I be so able as now.

The king and queen and all are coming down.

In happy time.

The queen desires you to use some
gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall
to play.

She well instructs me. [Exit Lord.

You will lose this wager, my lord.

I do not think so; since he went into
France, I have been in continual practice: I
shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not
think how ill all's here about my heart: but
it is no matter.

Nay, good my lord,—

It is but foolery; but it is such a
kind of gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble
a woman.

If your mind dislike any thing, obey
it: I will forestall their repair hither, and say (229)
you are not fit.

Not a whit, we defy augury: there's
a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to
come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it
will come: the readiness is all: since no man
has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave
betimes? Enter KING, QUEEN, LAERTES, Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c.

Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.

Give me your pardon, sir: I 've done you wrong;

But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.

This presence knows, (240)

And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd

With sore distraction. What I have done,

That might your nature, honour and exception

Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.

Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:

If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,

And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,

Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.

Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,

Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; (250)

His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.

Sir, in this audience,

Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil

Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,

That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,

And hurt my brother.

I am satisfied in nature,

Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most

To my revenge: but in my terms of honour

I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,

Till by some elder masters, of known honor, (260)

I have a voice and precedent of peace,

To keep my name ungored. But till that time,

I do receive your offer'd love like love,

And will not wrong it.

I embrace it freely;

And will this brother's wager frankly play.

Give us the foils. Come on.

Come, one for me.

I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance

Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,

Stick fiery off indeed.

You mock me, sir.

No, by this hand. (270)

Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,

You know the wager?

Very well, my lord;

Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.

I do not fear it; I have seen you both:

But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.

This is too heavy, let me see another.

This likes me well. These foils have all a length? [They prepare to play.

Ay, my good lord.

Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.

If Hamlet give the first or second hit, (280)

Or quit in answer of the third exchange,

Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;

The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;

And in the cup an union shall he throw,

Richer than that which four successive kings

In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;

And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,

The trumpet to the cannoneer without,

The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,

'Now the king drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin: (290)

And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

Come on, sir.

Come, my lord. They play.




A hit, a very palpable hit.

Well; again.

Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;

Here's to thy health. [Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within.

Give him the cup.

I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.

Come. They play.

Another hit; what say you?

A touch, a touch, I do confess.

Our son shall win.

He's fat, and scant of breath.

Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows:

The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.

Good madam!

Gertrude, do not drink.

I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.

It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.

I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.

Come, let me wipe thy face.

My lord, I'll hit him now.

I do not think't.

And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.

Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;

I pray you, pass with our best violence; (310)

I am afeard you make a wanton of me.

Say you so? come on. [They play.

Nothing, neither way.

Have at you now! [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling, they change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes.

Part them: they are incensed.

Nay, come, again. [The Queen falls.

Look to the queen there, ho!

They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

How is't, Laertes?

Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;

I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.

How does the queen?

She swounds to see them bleed. (320)

No, no, the drink, the drink,— O my dear Hamlet,—

The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.

O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd:

Treachery! Seek it out.

It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;

No medicine in the world can do thee good;

In thee there is not half an hour of life;

The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,

Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practice (329)

Hath turn'd itself on me; lo, here I lie,

Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:

I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.

The point envenom'd too!

Then, venom, to thy work. [Stabs the King.

Treason! treason!

O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.

Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,

Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?

Follow my mother. [King dies.

He is justly served;

It is a poison temper'd by himself.

Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: (341)

Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,

Nor thine on me! [Dies.

Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.

I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!

You that look pale and tremble at this chance,

That are but mutes or audience to this act,

Had I but time—as this fell sergeant, death,

Is strict in his arrest—O, I could tell you—

But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;

Thou livest; report me and my cause aright

To the unsatisfied. (351)

Never believe it:

I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:

Here's yet some liquor left.

As thou'rt a man,

Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't.

O good Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.

What warlike noise is this? (361)

Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,

To the ambassadors of England gives

This warlike volley.

O, I die, Horatio;

The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:

I cannot live to hear the news from England;

But I do prophesy the election lights

On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;

So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,

Which have solicited. The rest is silence. [Dies.

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince;

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Why does the drum come hither? [March within.
Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors, and others.

Where is this sight?

What is it ye would see?

If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.

This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death,

What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,

That thou so many princes at a shot

So bloodily hast struck?

First Amb.
The sight is dismal;

And our affairs from England come too late: (330)

The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,

To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd,

That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:

Where should we have our thanks?

Not from his mouth,

Had it the ability of life to thank you:

He never gave commandment for their death.

But since, so jump upon this bloody question,

You from the Polack wars, and you from England,

Are here arrived, give order that these bodies (389)

High on a stage be placed to the view;

And let me speak to the yet unknowing world

How these things came about: so shall you hear

Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,

Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters,

Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,

And, in this upshot, purposes mistook

Fall'n on the inventor's heads: all this can I

Truly deliver.

Let us haste to hear it,

And call the noblest to the audience.

For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:

I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, (401)

Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

Of that I shall have also cause to speak,

And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more:

But let this same be presently perform'd,

Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance,

On plots and errors, happen.

Let four captains

Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;

For he was likely, had he been put on,

To have proved most royally: and, for his passage, (410)

The soldiers' music and the rites of war

Speak loudly for him.

Take up the bodies: such a sight as this

Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.

Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [A dead march.
Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off.

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