Chapter: 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-Christian. 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 times. 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 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 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 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'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 hand.
  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 hearing
    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 final Act begins with a conversation between two gravediggers as they dig Ophelia's grave. They repeat a rumor that Ophelia committed suicide and wonder whether she ought to be buried in hallowed ground. We learn that the king has overridden the objections of the clergy and provided for her burial. After some witty and macabre banter on the nature of gravedigging, Hamlet and Horatio enter. The main gravedigger sends his partner off for a cup of liquor and then commences to dig, singing songs all the while. Hamlet appears fascinated by the gravedigger's indifference to the gravity of his profession. As the gravediggers throws various skulls out of the grave, Hamlet wonders whom they might have belonged to in life - whether a courtier or a lawyer. Hamlet approaches the gravedigger and exchanges witticisms about this morbid work. The gravedigger informs Hamlet about the length of time it takes bodies to decay in the ground. He then produces a skull from the grave that he says has been lying there for twenty-three years. The gravedigger says that this is the skull of Yorick, the old king's jester. Hamlet is amazed - he knew Yorick and loved him as a child. He takes up the skull and speaks about Yorick, a topic that leads him to consider the nature of mortality more generally. A procession interrupts Hamlet's reveries - Claudius, Gertrude, and Laertes march toward the grave along with a priest and an entourage bearing a body. Hamlet notices that the burial is less elaborate than usual, signifying that the deceased was a suicide. He and Horatio stand aside while Laertes argues with the priest about the paltriness of the burial rites. In the course of his arguing with the priest, Laertes reveals to Hamlet that the dead body is that of Ophelia. Gertrude steps forward to say farewell to Ophelia. Laertes follows. In his intense grief, Laertes leaps into his sister's grave to hold her body again and orders the gravediggers to bury him alive. Provoked by this show of grief, Hamlet then reveals himself. After grappling with Laertes, Hamlet declares that he loved Ophelia more than forty thousand brothers could. The king and queen dismiss his avowal as madness. Hamlet then exits and Horatio follows him. After they have left, Claudius reminds Laertes of their plan to take care of Hamlet. Scene 2 Scene 2 Hamlet explains to Horatio what happened on his journey to England. He says that he strongly suspected Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of foul play, and so decided to apprehend their letter to England. In the letter he found an order for his death. Hamlet then devised a substitute letter asking for the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He happened to have a signet ring in the shape of the seal of Denmark, and so sealed the letter. Hamlet then replaced the letter while Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were asleep. At this point, pirates attacked the vessel, as related previously. A courtier, Osric, interrupts Hamlet and Horatio. In very ornate and silly language, Osric declares to Hamlet that Claudius has proposed a contest of swordsmanship between Laertes and he. Hamlet and Horatio mock Osric's pompous and artificial mannerisms. Eventually Hamlet agrees to enter the contest. When Horatio worries that Laertes is better at swordplay than he, Hamlet declares that he has been in continual practice for some time. A table is prepared and the king, queen and other figures of state gather to watch the swordfight. Hamlet begs Laertes' pardon both for his outburst at Ophelia's grave and for his rash killing of Polonius. Laertes appears to accept this apology but declares that his honor will not be satisfied until they have had their contest. Hamlet and Laertes choose their swords. Laertes nonchalantly chooses the unblunted sword with the envenomed blade. As they prepare to fight, Claudius proposes a drink to Hamlet. The fight begins with Osric as referee. Hamlet wins the first point and the king offers him a drink to refresh himself, dropping a poisoned pearl in the wine just before he hands it over. Hamlet declines to take the drink for the time being. They play another round and Hamlet again wins a point. After this second pass, Gertrude toasts to Hamlet's health. She takes up the poisoned chalice and has a drink despite Claudius' protestations. Hamlet and Laertes have a third pass which ends in a draw. After this pass, while Hamlet is unguarded, Laertes wounds Hamlet with the poisoned rapier. They scuffle and Hamlet ends up with Laertes' poisoned sword. He wounds Laertes with it. Just then, the queen collapses. She declares that she has been poisoned by the drink and then dies. Hamlet asks for the treachery to be found out and Laertes confesses the plan hatched by the king and he. He says that they are both inevitably going to die, having been wounded by the poisoned blade. Hamlet takes the envenomed sword and wounds Claudius, then forces the king to drink from his poisoned cup. Claudius dies. Laertes asks Hamlet's forgiveness and then also dies. Hamlet, knowing that he is about to die also, asks Horatio to explain this bloody spectacle to the confused onlookers. Horatio, on the contrary, wishes to die with his friend, but Hamlet convinces him to live a while and clear his name. Hamlet declares that Fortinbras should become King of Denmark. He then dies - "the rest is silence." A flourish is heard and Osric brings news that Fortinbras has arrived from his victory in Poland with ambassadors from England. Fortinbras enters the court only to find four noble bodies sprawled out on the floor. The ambassadors from England enter with news that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have been killed. Horatio explains that Claudius would not have welcomed this news even if he had been living to receive it. He orders that the royal bodies be taken up. Horatio further promises to explain the story behind the deaths, a story full of "carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts; / Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; / Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause." In short, he promises to tell the story of Hamlet. Fortinbras agrees to hear it. He adds that, given the death of the Danish royalty, he will now pursue his own claims to the throne. Finally, Fortinbras declares that Hamlet shall receive a soldier's burial. Some soldiers take up his body and bear it from the stage.

