her.
Must there no more be done?
No more be done.
We should profane the service
To sing a requiem, and such rest
To her, as to peace-parted souls.
Lay her in the earth!
A ministering angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.
O, treble woe fall ten times treble
On that cursed head
Whose wicked deed thy ingenious
sense deprived thee of!
Hold off the earth awhile,
Till I have caught her in mine arms.
Now pile your dust upon the quick and
dead,
Till of this flat a mountain you have
made
To overtop old Pelion
And blue Olympus.
What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis?
This is I, Hamlet the Dane.
The devil take thy soul!
Thou pray not well. Off my throat.
Hold off thy hand!
Gentlemen!
- Pluck them asunder!
- Hamlet!
Good my lord, be quiet!
Why, I will fight with him
upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
- O my son, what theme?
- I loved Ophelia.
Forty thousand brothers could not,
With all their love, make up my sum.
What wilt thou do for her?
- O, he is mad, Laertes.
- For love of God, forbear him.
'Swounds, show me what thou'It do.
Woo't weep? Woo't fight? Woo't fast?
Woo't tear thyself? Woo't drink up
eisel? Eat a crocodile?
I'll do it.
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!
Nay, an thou'It mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Laertes, what is the reason that you
use me thus?
I loved you ever.
But it is no matter...
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have
his day.
You have been talked of much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing,
For a quality wherein you shine.
Your sum of parts did not together
pluck such envy from him,
As did a very riband one,
Your art and exercise in your defence.
Now, out of this...
What out of this, my lord?
Bring you together and wager on your
heads.
He, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all
contriving,
Will not peruse the foils, so that,
with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may
choose
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of
practice,
Requite him for your father.
I will do it.
And for that purpose I'll anoint my
sword.
And that he calls for drink,
I'll have prepared him a chalice
for the nonce,
whereon but sipping,
Our purpose may hold there.
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
In a towering passion.
Your lordship is right welcome
back to Denmark.
I humbly thank you, sir.
- Dost know this water-fly?
- No, my good lord.
If your lordship were at leisure, I'd
impart a thing to you from his majesty.
I will receive it with all diligence
of spirit.
Put your bonnet to his right use.
'Tis for the head.
I thank your lordship.
It is very hot.
No, 'tis very cold, the wind is
northerly.
It is indifferent cold,
my lord, indeed.
His majesty bade me
signify to you,
that he has laid a wager on your head.
What did he wager?
Here is newly come to court Laertes,
an absolute gentleman,
full of most excellent differences...
What imports the nomination of this
gentleman?
- Of Laertes?
- Of him, sir.
I mean, for his weapon.
In his meed he's unfellowed.
- What's his weapon?
- Rapier and dagger.
That's two of his weapons.
The king has laid, that in a dozen
passes between yourself and him,
Laertes shall not exceed you
three hits.
It would come to immediate trial,
if you would vouchsafe the answer.
How if I answer no?
I mean, my lord, the opposition
of your person in trial.
I will walk here in the hall.
Let the foils be brought.
Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?
To this effect, sir, after what
flourish your nature will.
I commend my duty
to your lordship.
Yours,