ACT V. Scene I. Elsinore. A churchyard.  Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes].    Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully     seeks her own salvation?   Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight.     The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial.   Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own     defence?   Other. Why, 'tis found so.   Clown. 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 drown'd herself wittingly.   Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver!   Clown. 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. 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.   Other. But is this law?   Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law.   Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a     gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial.   Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk     should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves     more than their even-Christen. Come, my spade! There is no     ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They     hold up Adam's profession.   Other. Was he a gentleman?   Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms.   Other. Why, he had none.   Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture?     The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms? I'll     put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the     purpose, confess thyself-   Other. Go to!   Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the     shipwright, or the carpenter?   Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand     tenants.   Clown. 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!   Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a     carpenter?   Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.   Other. Marry, now I can tell!   Clown. To't.   Other. Mass, I cannot tell.                   Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off.    Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will     not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this     question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts     till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of     liquor.                                             [Exit Second Clown.]                         [Clown digs and] sings.         In youth when I did love, did love,          Methought it was very sweet;        To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove,          O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet.    Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at     grave-making?   Hor. Custom hath made it in him a Property of easiness.   Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier     sense.   Clown. (sings)          But age with his stealing steps            Hath clawed me in his clutch,          And hath shipped me intil the land,            As if I had never been such.                                             [Throws up a skull.]    Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the     knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that     did the first murther! This might be the pate of a Politician,     which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God,     might it not?   Hor. It might, my lord.   Ham. 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     prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it- might     it not?   Hor. Ay, my lord.   Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd     about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution,     and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the     breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think     on't.   Clown. (Sings)          A pickaxe 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].    Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer?     Where be his quiddits 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     scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have no     more, ha?   Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.   Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins?   Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too.   Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I     will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?   Clown. Mine, sir.      [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made               For such a guest is meet.    Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.   Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours.     For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.   Ham. 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.   Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you.   Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?   Clown. For no man, sir.   Ham. What woman then?   Clown. For none neither.   Ham. Who is to be buried in't?   Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.   Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or     equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this 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?   Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our     last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.   Ham. How long is that since?   Clown. 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.   Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England?   Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits there;     or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there.   Ham. Why?   Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as mad as     he.   Ham. How came he mad?   Clown. Very strangely, they say.   Ham. How strangely?   Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.   Ham. Upon what ground?   Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy     thirty years.   Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot?   Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have many     pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in, I     will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last     you nine year.   Ham. Why he more than another?   Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a 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 hath lien     you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years.   Ham. Whose was it?   Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was?   Ham. Nay, I know not.   Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon of     Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's     skull, the King's jester.   Ham. This?   Clown. E'en that.   Ham. 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 tunes. And now how abhorred     in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those     lips that I have kiss'd 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- fall'n? 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. Prithee, Horatio,     tell me one thing.   Hor. What's that, my lord?   Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth?   Hor. E'en so.   Ham. And smelt so? Pah!                                           [Puts 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 bunghole?   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 t' expel the winter's flaw!     But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King-      Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King,              Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.]      The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow?     And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken     The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand     Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.     Couch we awhile, and mark.                                          [Retires with Horatio.]   Laer. What ceremony else?   Ham. That is Laertes,     A very noble youth. Mark.   Laer. What ceremony else?   Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd     As we have warranty. 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 allow'd her virgin crants,     Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home     Of bell and burial.   Laer. Must there no more be done?   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' th' earth;     And from her fair and unpolluted flesh     May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,     A minist'ring angel shall my sister be     When thou liest howling.   Ham. What, the fair Ophelia?   Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.                                              [Scatters 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 in the grave.     Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead     Till of this flat a mountain you have made     T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head     Of blue Olympus.   Ham. [comes forward] 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.                    [Leaps in after Laertes.   Laer. The devil take thy soul!                                             [Grapples with him].   Ham. Thou pray'st not well.     I prithee take thy fingers from my throat;     For, though I am not splenitive and rash,     Yet have I in me something dangerous,     Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!   King. Pluck thein 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't do.     Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?     Woo't drink up esill? 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;     Till then in patience our proceeding be.                                                          Exeunt.     Scene II. Elsinore. A hall in the Castle.  Enter Hamlet and Horatio.    Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other.     You do remember all the circumstance?   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 mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly-     And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know,     Our indiscretion sometime serves us well     When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us     There's a divinity that shapes our ends,     Rough-hew them how we will-   Hor. That is most certain.   Ham. Up from my cabin,     My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark     Grop'd 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,     Larded with many several sorts of reasons,     Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,     With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life-     That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,     No, not to stay the finding of the axe,     My head should be struck off.   Hor. Is't possible?   Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure.     But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?   Hor. I beseech you.   Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,     Or I could make a prologue to my brains,     They had begun the play. I sat me down;     Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair.     I once did hold it, as our statists do,     A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much     How to forget that learning; but, sir, now     It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know     Th' effect of what I wrote?   Hor. Ay, good my lord.   Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King,     As England was his faithful tributary,     As love between them like the palm might flourish,     As peace should still her wheaten garland wear     And stand a comma 'tween their amities,     And many such-like as's 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.   Hor. How was this seal'd?   Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.     I had my father's signet in my purse,     which was the model of that Danish seal;     Folded the writ up in the form of th' other,     Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely,     The changeling never known. Now, the next day     Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent     Thou know'st already.   Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.   Ham. 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     Between the pass and fell incensed points     Of mighty opposites.   Hor. Why, what a king is this!   Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon-     He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother;     Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes;     Thrown out his angle for my Proper life,     And with such coz'nage- 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     In further evil?   Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England     What is the issue of the business there.   Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine,     And a man's life is 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 tow'ring passion.   Hor. Peace! Who comes here?                   Enter young Osric, a courtier.    Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.   Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this     waterfly?   Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord.   Ham. [aside to Horatio] 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 of dirt.   Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart     a thing to you from his Majesty.   Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your     bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head.   Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot.   Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.   Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.   Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.   Osr. 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-   Ham. I beseech you remember.                            [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.]   Osr. 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.   Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I     know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' 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 diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else     would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.   Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.   Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more     rawer breath   Osr. Sir?   Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in another     tongue? You will do't, sir, really.   Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman   Osr. Of Laertes?   Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are     spent.   Ham. Of him, sir.   Osr. I know you are not ignorant-   Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not     much approve me. Well, sir?   Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-   Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in     excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.   Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him     by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.   Ham. What's his weapon?   Osr. Rapier and dagger.   Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well.   Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses;     against the which he has impon'd, 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 conceit.   Ham. What call you the carriages?   Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the margent     ere you had done.   Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.   Ham. The phrase would be more germane 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 all impon'd, as you call it?   Osr. 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.   Ham. How if I answer no?   Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.   Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty,     it is 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 if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my     shame and the odd hits.   Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so?   Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will.   Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship.   Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it     himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.   Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.   Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd 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 fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but blow     them to their trial-the bubbles are out,                              Enter a Lord.    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.   Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's pleasure.     If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided     I be so able as now.   Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down.   Ham. In happy time.   Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to     Laertes before you fall to play.   Ham. She well instructs me.                                                     [Exit Lord.]   Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.   Ham. 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.   Hor. Nay, good my lord -   Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as     would perhaps trouble a woman.   Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their     repair hither and say you are not fit.   Ham. 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 knows aught of what he leaves,     what is't to leave betimes? Let be.      Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other               Attendants with foils and gauntlets.                A table and flagons of wine on it.    King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.                     [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.]   Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong;     But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.     This presence knows,     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 taken 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;     His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.     Sir, in this audience,     Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil     Free me so far in your most generous thoughts     That I have shot my arrow o'er the house     And hurt my brother.   Laer. 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 honour     I have a voice and precedent of peace     To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time     I do receive your offer'd love like love,     And will not wrong it.   Ham. I embrace it freely,     And will this brother's wager frankly play.     Give us the foils. Come on.   Laer. Come, one for me.   Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance     Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night,     Stick fiery off indeed.   Laer. You mock me, sir.   Ham. No, by this bad.   King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,     You know the wager?   Ham. Very well, my lord.     Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side.   King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both;     But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.   Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another.   Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length?                                                 Prepare to play.   Osr. Ay, my good lord.   King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.     If Hamlet give the first or second hit,     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 heaven to earth,     'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin.     And you the judges, bear a wary eye.   Ham. Come on, sir.   Laer. Come, my lord.                                They play.   Ham. One.   Laer. No.   Ham. Judgment!   Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.   Laer. Well, again!   King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;     Here's to thy health.                [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within].     Give him the cup.   Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.     Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you?   Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't.   King. Our son shall win.   Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath.     Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows.     The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.   Ham. Good madam!   King. Gertrude, do not drink.   Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.          Drinks.   King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.   Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by.   Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face.   Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.   King. I do not think't.   Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience.   Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally.     pray You Pass with your best violence;     I am afeard You make a wanton of me.   Laer. Say you so? Come on.                               Play.   Osr. Nothing neither way.   Laer. Have at you now!                 [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they                     change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes].   King. Part them! They are incens'd.   Ham. Nay come! again!                         The Queen falls.   Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho!   Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?   Osr. How is't, Laertes?   Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric.     I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.   Ham. How does the Queen?   King. She sounds to see them bleed.   Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet!     The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.                 [Dies.]   Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd.     Treachery! Seek it out.                                                 [Laertes falls.]   Laer. 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     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.   Ham. The point envenom'd too?     Then, venom, to thy work.                    Hurts the King.   All. Treason! treason!   King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt.   Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane,     Drink off this potion! Is thy union here?     Follow my mother.                                 King dies.   Laer. He is justly serv'd.     It is a poison temper'd by himself.     Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.     Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,     Nor thine on me!                                       Dies.   Ham. 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 liv'st; report me and my cause aright     To the unsatisfied.   Hor. Never believe it.     I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.     Here's yet some liquor left.   Ham. As th'art a man,     Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha'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?   Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,     To the ambassadors of England gives     This warlike volley.   Ham. O, I die, Horatio!     The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.     I cannot live to hear the news from England,     But I do prophesy th' election lights     On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice.     So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less,     Which have solicited- the rest is silence.             Dies.   Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,     And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!                                                  [March within.]     Why does the drum come hither?      Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum,                   Colours, and Attendants.    Fort. Where is this sight?   Hor. What is it you will see?     If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.   Fort. 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.   Ambassador. The sight is dismal;     And our affairs from England come too late.     The ears are senseless that should give us bearing     To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd     That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.     Where should We have our thanks?   Hor. Not from his mouth,     Had it th' 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 arriv'd, give order that these bodies     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 judgments, casual slaughters;     Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause;     And, in this upshot, purposes mistook     Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I     Truly deliver.   Fort. 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     Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me.   Hor. 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.   Fort. Let four captains     Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage;     For he was likely, had he been put on,     To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage     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.             Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance                                                    are shot off.   THE END