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149

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?

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I 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.

1 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.

Hamlet. This ?

I Clown. E'en that.

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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

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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 appearance this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.—Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Horatio. What 's that, my lord?

185

Hamlet. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion

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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?

Horatio. 'T were to consider too curiously, to consider so.
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 flaw!

Eut soft! but soft! aside! here comes the king,

201

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

imperfect, they would not pay all the rites

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

210

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;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,

atsherds Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her:
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,

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Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home gs that were strewn

Of bell and burial. These

were ritio allowed that re

Laertes. Must there no more be done?
I Priest.
We should profane the service of the dead
To sing a requiem and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.

Laertes.

No

on the

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souls 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,

When thou liest howling.

Hamlet.

What, the fair Ophelia !

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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 t' have strew'd thy grave.

keen intellect

Laertes.
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 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.

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stay inspiring

Hamlet. [Advancing] What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow planets? Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand wonderatung Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,

Hamlet the Dane!

[Leaps into the grave.

Laertes.

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, passionate
Yet have I something in me dangerous,

Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!

King. Pluck them asunder.

Queen.

All Gentlemen,

Horatio.

Hamlet, Hamlet!

Good my lord, be quiet.

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[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.

Queen. O my son, what theme?

move.

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?

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King. O, he is mad, Laertes.

Queen. For love of God, forbear him.

Hamlet. 'Swounds, show me what thou 'lt do :

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

Woo't drink up eisel? 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 ;

drink vinegar (portably

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!

I'll rant as well as thou.

Queen.

Nay, an thou 'lt mouth, brag,
and; heepass if.

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.

Hamlet.

Hear you, sir

r;

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.
King. I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.—

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rant

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[Exit.

[Exit Horatio.

[To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's

speech;

We 'll put the matter to the present push. instant test.
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.

lasting with a play

SCENE II. A Hall in the Castle.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO.

drawler shall serve

[Exeunt

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,
And prais'd be rashness for it, let us know,“

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