Clown sings.
A Pick-axe and a Spade, a Spade,
For and a shrowding sheet!
O a Pit of Clay for to be made;
For such a Guest is meet.
Ham.
There's another: why might not that be the Scull
of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets?
-- 2451 --
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 hardly lye in this Box; and must the Inheritor
himself have no more? ha?
Hor.
Not a jot more, my Lord.
Ham.
Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skins?
Hor.
Ay my Lord, and of Calve-skins too.
Ham.
They are Sheep and Calves that seek out assurance
in that. I will speak to this Fellow: whose Grave's this,
Sir?
Clown.
Mine, Sir—
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 it is not yours;
for my part I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.
Ham.
Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say 'tis thine,
'tis for the dead, and not for the quick, therefore thou ly'st.
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 follow us: by the Lord, Horatio,
these three years I have taken note of it, the Age is grown
so picked, and the toe of the Peasant comes so near the heel
of our Countier, he galls his Kibe. How long hast thou
been a Grave-maker?
-- 2452 --
Clown.
Of all the days i'th' Year, I came to't that day that
our last King Hamlet o'ercame 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 was
mad and sent into England.
Ham.
Ay marry, why was he sent into England?
Clown.
Why, because he was mad; he shall recover his
Wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there.
Ham.
Why?
Clown.
'Twill not be seen in him, 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 e'er he rot?
Clown.
I'faith, if he be not rotten before he dye, (as
we have many pocky Coarses now adays, that will scarce hold
the laying in) he will last you some eight year, or nine year.
A Tanner will last you nine years.
Ham.
Why he, more than another?
Clown.
Why Sir, his Hide is tann'd 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: this Scull has lain in the 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 Scull,
Sir, this same Scull, Sir, was Yorick's Scull, the King's Jester.
Ham.
This?
Clown.
E'en that.
Ham.
Let me see. Alas poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio,
a Fellow of infinite Jest; of most excellent fancy, he hath
-- 2453 --
born me on his back a thousand times: And how abhorred
my imagination is now, 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 Gambals? Your Songs? Your
flashes of Merriment that were wont to set the Table on a
Roar? No one now to mock your own Jeering? Quite
chop 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
it'th' Earth?
Hor.
E'en so.
Ham.
And smelt so, Puh?
[Smelling to the Scull.
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
e 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 Lome, and
why of that Lome whereto he was converted, might they
not stop a Beer-barrel?
Imperial Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
Oh, 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 King, Queen, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords and Priests Attendant.
The Queen, the Courtiers. What is't that they follow,
And with such maimed Rights? This doth betoken,
The Coarse they follow, did with desperate hand
Fore-do it's own Life; 'twas some Estate.
Couch we a while, and mark.
Laer.
What Ceremony else?
Ham.
That is Laertes, a very noble Youth: Mark—
Laer.
What Ceremony else?
-- 2454 --
Priest.
Her Obsequies have been as far enlarg'd,
As we have warranty; her death was doubtful,
And but that great command o'er-sways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd,
'Till the last Trumpet. For charitable Prayer,
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?
Priest.
No more be done:
We should prophane the service of the dead,
To sing sage 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 Ministring Angel shall my Sister be,
When thou liest howling.
Ham.
What, the fair Ophelia!
Queen.
Sweets, to thee sweet, farewell,
I hop'd thou woul'dst 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.
Laer.
O terrible wooer!
Fall tentimes treble woes on that curs'd 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 my arms:
[Laertes leaps into the Grave.
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
'Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
To o'er-top old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.
Ham.
What is he, whose griefs
Bear such an Emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandring Stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
[Hamlet leaps into the Grave.
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer.
The Devil take thy Soul.
[Grappling with him.
-- 2455 --
Ham.
Thou pray'st not well,
I prithee take thy fingers from my throat—
Sir, though I am not spleenative and rash,
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear. Away thy hand.
King.
Pluck them asunder—
Queen.
Hamlet, Hamlet—
Gen.
Good my Lord be quiet.
[The Attendants part them.
Ham.
Why, I will fight with him upon his Theme,
Until my Eye-lids will no longer wag.
Queen.
Oh 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.
Oh he is mad, Laertes.
Queen.
For love of God forbear him.
Ham.
Come shew me what thou'lt do.
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't tear thy self?
Woo't drink up Esile, eat a Crocodile?
I'll do't. Do'st thou come hither to whine;
To out-face me with leaping into 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
Sindging his pate against the burning Zone,
Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
King.
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 Cuplet 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 you good Horatio, wait upon him.
Strengthen your patience in our last Nights Speech
[To Laertes.
We'll put the matter to the present push.
Good Gertrude set some watch over your Son,
-- 2456 --
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.
A Hall.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham.
So much for this, Sir; now let me 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 mutineers in the Bilboes; rashly,
(And prais'd be rashness for it) let us know
Our Indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our dear Plots do pall; and that should teach 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 scarft 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,
Oh Royal knavery! an exact command,
Larded with many several sorts of reason,
Importing Denmark's Health, and England's too,
With hoo, such Buggs and Goblins in my life,
That on the supervize, no leisure bated,
No not to stay the grinding 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 hear how I did proceed?
Hor.
I beseech you.
Ham.
Being thus benetted round with Villains,
E'er I could make a Prologue to my Brains,
-- 2457 --
They had begun the Play. I sate 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
The effects 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, as the Palm should 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 know of these contents,
Without debatement further, more or less,
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
No shriving time allowed.
Hor.
How was this seal'd?
Ham.
Why even in that was Heav'n ordinate;
I had my Father's Signet in my Purse,
Which was the Model of that Danish Seal:
I folded the Writ up in form of the other,
Subscrib'd it, gave 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 Roseneraus, go to't.
Ham.
Why Man, they did make love to this employment,
They are not near my Conscience; their debate
Doth by their own insinuation grow:
'Tis dangerous when baser nature comes
Between the pass, and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites.
Hor.
Why, what a King is this!
Ham.
Does it not, think'st thou, stand me now upon?
He that hath kill'd my King, and whor'd my Mother,
Popt in between th' election and my hopes,
Thrown out his Angle for my proper life,
And with such cozenage; is't not perfect Conscience,
To quit him with his arm? And is't not to be damn'd,
-- 2458 --
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's mine, and a Man's Life's no more
Than to say one: But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot my self;
For by the Image of my cause I see
The Pourtraiture of his; I'll court his favours:
But sure the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towring Passion.
Hor.
Peace, who comes here?
Enter Osrick.
Osr.
Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
Ham.
I humbly thank you, Sir. Dost know this water-fly?
Hor.
No, my good Lord.
Ham.
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
Messe; 'tis a Chough; but as I say, spacious in the possession
of dirt.
Osr.
Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leisure, I
should impart a thing to you from his Majesty.
Ham.
I will receive it with all diligence of Spirit; put
your Bonnet to his right use, 'tis for the Head.
Osr.
I thank your Lordship, 'tis very hot.
Ham.
No, believe me, 'tis very cold, the wind is Northerly.
Osr.
It is indifferent cold, my Lord, indeed.
Ham.
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 bid me signifie
to you, that he has laid a great wager on your head:
Sir, this is the matter—
Ham.
I beseech you remember.
Osr.
Nay in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir,
you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his
weapon.
Ham.
What's his weapon?
-- 2459 --
Osr.
Rapier and Dagger.
Ham.
That's two of his Weapons; but well.
Osr.
The King, Sir, has wag'd with him six Barbary
Horses, against the which he impon'd, as I take it, six
French Rapiers and Poinards, with their Assigns, as Girdle,
Hangers, or 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?
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; but against the Danish, why is
this impon'd, as you call it?
Osr.
The King, Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes
between you and him, he shall not exceed you three hits;
He hath laid on twelve for nine, and that 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, 'tis 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'll
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.
[Exit.
Ham.
Yours, yours; 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 so with his Dug before he suck'd it: thus
has he and nine more of the same Beavy that I know the
droslie Age dotes on, only got the tune of the time, and
outward habit of encounter, a kind of yesty Collection,
-- 2460 --
which carries them through and through the most fond and
winnowed Opinions; and do but blow them to their Trials,
the Bubbles are out.
Enter a Lord.
Lord.
My Lord, his Majesty commended him to you by
young Osrick, 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 go to play.
Ham.
She well instructs me.
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 wouldest not think how 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 gain-giving
as would perhaps trouble a Woman.
Hor.
If your mind dislike any thing, obey. I will forestal
their repair hither, and say you are not fit.
Ham.
Not a whit, we defie 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 has ought of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes?
Enter King, Queen, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants
with Foils, and Gantlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.
King.
Come, Hamlet, come, and take this Hand from me.
Ham.
Give me your pardon, Sir, I've 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
-- 2461 --
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 ta'en away,
And when he's not himself, do's wrong Laertes;
Then Hamlet do's 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 mine Arrow o'er the House,
And hurt my Mother.
Laer.
I am satisfi d 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 president of peace
To keep my Name ungorg'd. But 'till that time,
I do receive your offer'd love like love,
And will not wrong it.
Ham.
I do embrace it freely,
And will this Brother's Wager frankly play,
Gives 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' brightest Night,
Stick fiery off indeed.
Laer.
You mock me, Sir.
Ham.
No, by this Hand.
King.
Give the Foils, young Osrick.
Cousin Hamlet, you know the Wager.
Ham.
Very well, my Lord,
Your Grace hath 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.
-- 2462 --
Ham.
This likes me well;
These Foils have all a length?
[Prepare to Play.
Osr.
Ay, my good Lord.
King.
Set me the Stopes of Wine upon that Table:
If Hamlet give the first, or second hit,
Or quit in answer of a 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 Trumpets speak,
The Trupets to the Canoneer without,
The Canons to the Heav'ns, the Heav'n to Earth,
Now the King drinks to Hamlet. Come, begin,
And you the Judges bear a wary Eye.
Ham.
Come on, Sir.
Laer.
Come on, Sir.
[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. Give him the Cup.
[Trumpet sound, Shot goes off.
Ham.
I'll play this bout first, set it by a while.
Come—another hit—what say you?
[They Play again.
Laer.
A touch, a touch, I do confess.
King.
Our Son shall win.
Queen.
He's fat, and scant of breath.
Here's a 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.
King.
It is the poison'd Cup, it is too late.
[Aside.
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.
-- 2463 --
King.
I do not think't.
Laer.
And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my Conscience.
[Aside.
Ham.
Come, for the third. Laertes, you but dally,
I pray you pass with your best violence,
I am afraid 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—
Osr.
Look to the Queen there, ho!
Hor.
They bleed on both sides. How is't, my Lord?
Osr.
How is't Laertes?
Laer.
Why, as a Woodcock to my Sprindge, Osrick,
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
Ham.
How does the Queen?
King.
She swoons to see them bleed.
Queen.
No, no, the drink, the drink—
Oh my dear Hamlet, the drink, the drink,—
I am poison'd—
[Queen dies.
Ham.
Oh Villany! How? Let the door be lock'd:
Treachery! seek it out—
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 it self on me. Lo, here I lye,
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.
[Stabs 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.
-- 2464 --
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.
Heav'n 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 at this Act,
Had I but time, (as this fell Serjeant Death
Is strict in his Arrest) oh I could tell you,
But let it be—Horatio, I am dead,
Thou liv'st, report me and my causes right
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 Heav'n I'll hav't.
Oh, 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 a while,
And in this harsh World draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.
[March afar off, and shout within.
What warlike noise is this?
Enter Osrick.
Osr.
Young Fortinbras, with Conquest come from Poland,
To th' Ambassadors of England gives this Warlike Volley.
Ham.
O, I die, Horatio:
The potent poison quite o'er-crows my Spirit,
I cannot live to hear the News from England.
But I do prophesie th' election lights
On Fortinbras, he has my dying Voice,
So tell him with the occurrents more or less,
Which have solicited.—The rest is silence, O, O, O.
[Dies.
Hor.
Now cracks a noble Heart; good Night, sweet Prince;
And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest.
Why do's the Drum come hither?
-- 2465 --
Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drum, Colours, and Attendants.
Fort.
Where is the sight?
Hor.
What is it you would see?
If ought of woe or wonder, cease your search.
Fort.
This quarry cries on Havock. Oh proud death!
What Feast is toward in thine eternal Cell,
That thou so many Princes at a shoot,
So bloodily hast struck?
Amb.
The sight is dismal,
And our Affairs from England come too late,
The Ears are senseless that should give us hearing;
To tell him his Command'ment is fulfill'd,
That Roseneraus 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 Command'ment 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 sp ak to th' yet unknowing World,
How these things came about. So shall you hear
Of cruel, 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 the 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 no more:
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Even whiles Mens minds are wild, lest more mischance
-- 2466 --
On plots, and errors happen.
Fort.
Let four Captains
Bear Hamlet like a Soldier off the Stage,
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have prov'd most royally: and for his passage,
The Soldiers Musick, and the rites of War
Speak loudly for him.
Take up the Body: Such a sight as this,
Becomes the Field, but here shews much amiss.
Go, bid the Soldiers shoot.
[Exeunt Marching: after which, a Peal of Ordnance are shot off.
