Reading Help HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
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' the earth? `
` `
` Hor. `
` E'en so. `
` `
` Ham. `
` And smelt so? Pah! `
` `
` [Throws down the skull.] `
` `
` Hor. `
` E'en so, my lord. `
` `
` Ham. `
` 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? `
` `
` 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 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 that they follow? `
` And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken `
` The corse they follow did with desperate hand `
` Fordo it own life: 'twas of some estate. `
` Couch we awhile and mark. `
` `
` [Retiring with Horatio.] `
` `
` Laer. `
` What ceremony else? `
` `
` Ham. `
` That is Laertes, `
` A very noble youth: mark. `
` `
` Laer. `
` What ceremony else? `
` `
` 1 Priest. `
` Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd `
` As we have warranties: 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 allowed her virgin rites, `
` Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home `
` Of bell and burial. `
` `
` Laer. `
` Must there no more be done? `
` `
` 1 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' 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. `
` `
` Ham. `
` 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. `
` `
` 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 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 wandering stars, and makes them stand `
` Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, `
` Hamlet the Dane. `
` [Leaps into the grave.] `
` `
` Laer. `
` The devil take thy soul! `
` [Grappling with him.] `
` `
` Ham. `
` Thou pray'st not well. `
` I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat; `
` For, though I am not splenetive and rash, `
` Yet have I in me something dangerous, `
` Which let thy wiseness fear: away thy hand! `
` `
` King. `
` Pluck them 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'lt do: `
` Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? `
` Woul'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: `
` 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; `
`
` tell me one thing. `
` `
` Hor. `
` What's that, my lord? `
` `
` Ham. `
` Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth? `
` `
` Hor. `
` E'en so. `
` `
` Ham. `
` And smelt so? Pah! `
` `
` [Throws down the skull.] `
` `
` Hor. `
` E'en so, my lord. `
` `
` Ham. `
` 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? `
` `
` 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 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 that they follow? `
` And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken `
` The corse they follow did with desperate hand `
` Fordo it own life: 'twas of some estate. `
` Couch we awhile and mark. `
` `
` [Retiring with Horatio.] `
` `
` Laer. `
` What ceremony else? `
` `
` Ham. `
` That is Laertes, `
` A very noble youth: mark. `
` `
` Laer. `
` What ceremony else? `
` `
` 1 Priest. `
` Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd `
` As we have warranties: 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 allowed her virgin rites, `
` Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home `
` Of bell and burial. `
` `
` Laer. `
` Must there no more be done? `
` `
` 1 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' 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. `
` `
` Ham. `
` 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. `
` `
` 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 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 wandering stars, and makes them stand `
` Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, `
` Hamlet the Dane. `
` [Leaps into the grave.] `
` `
` Laer. `
` The devil take thy soul! `
` [Grappling with him.] `
` `
` Ham. `
` Thou pray'st not well. `
` I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat; `
` For, though I am not splenetive and rash, `
` Yet have I in me something dangerous, `
` Which let thy wiseness fear: away thy hand! `
` `
` King. `
` Pluck them 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'lt do: `
` Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? `
` Woul'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: `
` 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; `
`