Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.

Arv.

Where?

O' the floor;

His arms thus leagued: I thought, heslept ; and put My clouted brogues* from off my feet, whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too loud.

Gui. Why he but sleeps:

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.

Arv.
With fairest flowers,
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azured hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddock+ would
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming

Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument !) bring thee all this:
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground‡ thy corse.

*

*

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: And, though he came our enemy, remember, He was paids for that: though mean and mighty, rotting

Together, have one dust yet reverence

(That angel of the world) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

*Shoes plated with iron.

The red-breast.

Probably a corrupt term for wither round thy corse. § Punished.

Pray you,

fetch him hither.

Gui.
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax,
When neither are alive.

Funeral Dirge.

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney sweepers, come to dust.

Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke,

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Aro. Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure* rash;
Are. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Consignt to thee, and come to dust.
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Are. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consum:nation have ;
And renowned be thy grave!

Imogen awaking.

Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven ;

Which is the way?

* Judgment.

Seal the same contract.

I thank you. By yon bush?-Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins !*--can it be six miles yet?

I have gone all night:-'faith, I'll lie down and sleep.
But, soft! no bedfellow :-O gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't. I hope, I dream;
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so;
"Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
I tremble still with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.

ACT V.

A routed Army.

No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: the king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Briton's seen, all flying Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd‡

With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame.

Death.

I, in mine own woe charm'd,

*This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my 1 Blocked up.

pity.

An arrow.

Could not find death where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange, he hides him fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war.

HAMLET.

ACT I.

Prodigies.

In the most high and palmy* state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.

*

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,+ Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.

Ghosts vanish at the Crowing of a Cock Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crew. Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. Í have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring‡ spirit hies To his confine and of the truth herein This present object made probation.§

The Reverence paid to Christmas Time. It faded on the crowing of the cock.

* Victorious.

+ The moon. + Wandering.

§ Proof.

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long :
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

Morning.

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. Real Grief.

Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly; these, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

Immoderate Grief discommended. "Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term

To do obsequious sorrow: But to persevere
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubborness; 'tis unmanly grief :
It shews a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd: