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

Hamlet. Why?

i Clown. 'T will not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.

Hamlet. How came he mad ?
1 Clown. Very strangely, they say.
Hamlet. How strangely?
1 Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Hamlet. Upon what ground?

1 Clown. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

Hamlet. How long will a man lie i’ the earth ere he rot?

I Clown. 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. Hamlet. Why he more than another?

160 i Clown. 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 twenty years.

Hamlet. Whose was it?

i Clown. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; whose do you think it was?

Hamlet. Nay, I know not.

i Clown. 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.

171 Hamlet. This ? i Clown. E’en that.

Hamlet. 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 thwati nausea eusnes. 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 chop-fallen? Now get you to my

lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to ш иши. this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.-Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

185 Horatio. What 's that, my lord ?

Hamlet. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion
i' the earth ?

Horatio. E'en so.
Hamlet. And smelt so? pah! [Puts down the skull.
Horatio. E'en so, my lord.

191 Hamlet. 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? gawigilly Horatio. 'T were to consider too curiously, to consider so.

aby Hamlet. 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 faw!
But soft! but soft! aside! here comes the king,

Enter Priests, etc., in procession; the Corpse of OPHELIA,
LAERTES and Mourners following; KING, QUEEN, their

trains, etc.
The queen, the courtiers; who is that they follow?
And with such maimed rites ? This doth betoken

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The corse they follow did with desperate hand
Fordo it own life; 't was of some estate. Rouke

Couch we awhile, and mark. hide (Retiring with Horatio.

Laertes. What ceremony else?
Hamlet. That is Laertes, a very noble youth; mark.
Laertes. What ceremony else?

i Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; warrant
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:
Shards, flin

Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, gualada Sr Krons.
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Wings that are ałeanom
Of bell and burial. These were relio Allowed

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Laertes. Must there no more be done? at bariste, sed lace w
I 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. Boulo dying in peace

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,

- 230
When thou liest howling.

What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet; farewell! [Scattering 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.

O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense bem culeleat
Depriv'd 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'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head shay
Of blue Olympus.

Hamlet. [Advancing] What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow
Alamato ? Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
wrederetuak Like wonder-wounded hearers ? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane !

[Leaps into the grave.
The devil take thy soul !

[Grappling with him.
Hamlet. Thou pray'st not well.
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash, pasinuała
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand !

King: Pluck them asunder.

Hamlet, Hamlet!
All. Gentlemen,-

Good my lord, be quiet.
[The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.
Hamlet. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag. move.

Queen. O my son, what theme?

Hamlet. 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.

Hamlet. 'Swounds, show me what thou ’lt do:
wer Thow Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyselfi

Woo't drink up eisel ? eat a crocodile? Orick vinegar (mentally
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, Gray, raut
I 'll rant as well as thou. antiheepopo

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,
His silence will sit drooping.

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 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.- iustaut Test. Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. This grave shall have a living monument: lastry . lirik s plovy

that Iramlet olulu teros An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunte


SCENE II. A Hall in the Castle.

Hamlet. So much for this, sir; now let me see the other:
You do remember all the circumstance?

Horatio. Remember it, my lord !

Hamlet. 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, atat fettere, writ And prais'd be rashness for it, let us know, werden a long

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kept the lego fact.

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