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scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
Ham. Why he more than another?
1 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 scull now hath lain you i̇' th' earth three-and-twenty years.
Ham. Whose was it?
1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose do you think it was?
Ham. Nay, I know not.
1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. Ham. This? [Takes the scull.
1 Clo. E'en that.
Ham. 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 favour' 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 looked o'this fashion i' th' 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! 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?
[Retiring with HORATIO.
That is Laertes,
Laer. What ceremony else?
A very noble youth: Mark.
1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
Laer. Must there no more be done?
What, the fair Ophelia !
fordo, undo, destroy.
3 shards, broken pieces of earthenware.
4 crants, garlands.
Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!
[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.
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 a while, 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'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head Of blue Olympus.
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. The devil take thy soul! [Grappling with him.
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;
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
King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
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?1 eat a crocodile?
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,'
Hear you, sir;
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter;
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. [Exit.
[Exit HORATIO. Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; [TO LAERTES.
We'll put the matter to the present push.-
Esil. The Yssel, the most northerly branch of the Rhine. 2 disclosed, hatched.
SCENE II.-A hall in the castle.
Enter HAMLET and HORATIO.
Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see the You do remember all the circumstance? [other;
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. And prais'd be rashness for it,-Let us know,3 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach There's a divinity that shapes our ends, [us, Rough-hew them how we will.
That is most certain.
Ham. Up from my cabin,
Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure: But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?
mutines, seditious fellows.
And prais'd be rashness, for it lets us know,
2 bilboes, a species of fetter. Rashly,
&c., is the suggestion of TYRWHITT.
4 bugbears. ⚫ without any abatement, or intermission of time.