Ham Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jeft; of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rifes at it. Here hung thofe lips, that I have kifs'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your fongs your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour the muft come; make her laugh at that— Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Hor. What's that, my Lord?

Ham. Doft thou think, Alexander look'd o' this fashion i'th' earth?

Hor. E'en fo.

Ham. And fmelt fo, puh?

Hor. E'en fo, my Lord.

Ham. To what bafe ufes we may return, Horatio! why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexaander, 'till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

Hor. 'Twere to confider too curiously, to confider fo. Ham. No, 'faith, not a jot: but to follow him thither with modefty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not ftop a beer-barrel ?

Imperial Cafar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might ftop 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 foft! but foft, a-while-here comes the King.

Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a coffin, with Lords, and Priefs, attendant.

The Queen, the Courtiers. What is that they follow,
And with fuch maimed rites? this doth betoken,
The coarfe, they follow, did with defperate hand
Foredo its own life; 'twas of fome estate.

Couch

Couch we awhile, and mark.
Laer. What ceremony elfe?

Ham. That is Laertes, a moft noble youth: markLaer. What ceremony else?

Prieft. Her obfequies have been fo far enlarg'd
As we have warranty; her death was doubtful;
And but that great. Command o'er-fways the order,
She fhould in ground unfanctified have lodg'd
'Till the last Trump. For charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her;
Yet here fhe is allow'd her virgin rites,

Her maiden-ftrewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.

Laer. Muft no more be done?

Prieft. No more be done!

We fhould profane the fervice of the dead,
To fing a Requiem, and fuch reft to her
As to peace-parted fouls.

Laer. Lay her i'th' earth;

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets fpring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
A miniftring angel fhall my fifter be,
When thou lieft howling.

Ham. What, the fair Ophelia

Queen. Sweets to the fweet, farewel!

I hop'd, thou fhouldft have been my Hamlet's wife;
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, fweet maid,
And not have ftrew'd thy grave.

Laer. O treble woe

Fall ten times treble on that curfed head,
Whofe wicked deed thy most ingenious fenfe
Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
'Till I have caught her once more in my arms;

[Laertes leaps into the Grave. Now pile your duft upon the quick and dead, "Till of this flat a mountain you have made, T'o'er-top old Pelion, or the fkyish head Of blue Olympus.

Ham. [difcovering himfelf.] What is he, whofe griefs, Bear fuch an emphafis? whofe phrafe of forrow

Conjures

Conjures the wandring ftars, and makes them ftand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,

Hamlet the Dane.

[Hamlet leaps into the Grave.

Laer. The devil take thy foul! [Grappling with him.
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.

I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat-
For though I am not fplenetive and rash;
Yet have I in me fomething dangerous,

Which let thy wifdom fear.
King. Pluck them afunder
Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet

Hold off thy hand.

Hor. Good my Lord, be quiet.

[The attendants part them.

Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,

Until my eye-lids will no longer wag.

Queen. Oh my fon! what theme?

Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers

Could not with all their quantity of love

Make up my fum. What wilt thou do for her?

King O, he is mad, Laertes.

Queen. For love of God, forbear him.

Ham. Come, fhew me what thou'lt do.

Woo't weep? woo't fight ? woo't fat? woo't tear thyself? Woo't drink up Eifel, eat a crocodile? (29)

I'll

(29) Woo't drink up Efill, eat a Crocodile ?] This Word has thro' all the Editions been diftinguished by Italick Characters, as if it were the proper Name of fome River: and fo, I dare fay, all the Editors have from time to time understood it to be. But then this must be fome River in Denmark; and there is none there fo called; nor is there any near it in Name, that I know of, but fel, from which the Province of Overyffel derives its Title in the German Flanders. Befides, Hamlet is not propofing any Impoffibilities to Laertes, as the drinking up a River would be: but he rather feems to mean, Wilt thou refolve to do things the most fhocking and diftafteful to human Nature? and, behold, I am as refolute. I am perfuaded, the Poet wrote;

Wilt drink up Eifel, eat a Crocodile?

4. Wilt thou swallow down large Draughts of Vinegar? The Propofition,

I'll do't. Do'st thou come hither but to whine?
To out-face me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her; and fo 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 Offa 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 difclos'd,
His filence will fit 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,

[Exit.

The cat will mew, the dog will have his day.
King. I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him,

[Exit Hor

Strengthen your patience in our laft night's fpeech.

[To Laertes.

We'll put the matter to the prefent pufh.
Good Gertrude, fet fome watch over your fon:
This grave fhall have a living monument.
An hour of quiet fhortly fhall we fee;
'Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

[Exeunt.

Propofition, indeed, is not very grand; but the doing it might be as diftafteful and unfavoury, as eating the Flesh of a Crocodile. And now there is neither an Impoffibility, nor an Anticlimax: and the Lownefs of the Idea is in fome meafure remov'd by the uncommon Term,

SCENE changes to a HALL, in the Palace.

Ham.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio.

O much for this, now fhall you fee the other.
You do remember all the circumftance?

S%

Hor. Remember it, my Lord?

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, That would not let me fleep; methought, I lay

Worfe than the mutines in the bilboes; Rafhnefs (And prais'd be rashness for it) lets us know, Our indifcretion fometimes ferves us well,

When our deep plots do fail; 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 fea-gown scarft about me, in the dark
Grop'd I to find out them; had my defire,
Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
To mine own room again; making fo bold
(My fears forgetting manners) to unfeal
Their grand commiffion, where I found, Horatio,
A royal knavery; an exact command,
Larded with many feveral forts of reasons,
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
(With, ho! fuch buggs and goblins in my life ;)
That on the fupervize, no leifure bated,

No, not to stay the grinding of the ax,
My head fhould be ftruck off.

Hor. Is't poffible?

life;)

Ham. Here's the commiffion, read it at more leifure;

But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?

Hor. I befeech you.

Ham. Being thus benetted round with villainy,

(Ere I could make a prologue, to my Bane (30)

(30) Being thus benetted round with villains,

E'er I could make a Prologue to my Brains,
They had begun the Play. I fate me down, &c,]

They

This