| Scene 1Clown (singing a song) | But age with his stealing stepsHath clawed me in his clutchAnd Hath shipped me into the landAs if I had never been such |
| Scene 1Hamlet | How the knave jowls it to the ground as if’twere Cain’s jawbone, that did the first murder! |
| Scene 1Doctor | Her obsequies have been as far and large as we have warranty. Her death was doubtful, And, but that great command o’ersways the order,She should in ground unsanctified be lodgedTill the last trumpet. For charitable prayersShards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. |
| Scene 1HamletHyperbole | I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothersCould not with all their quantity of loveMake up my sum |
| Scene 1HamletHyperbole, Simile | Be buried quick with her, and so will IAnd if thou prate of mountains, let them throwMillions of acres on us, till our ground,Singeing his pate against the burning zone,Make Ossa like a wart! |
| Scene 1QueenSimile | And thus a while the fit will work on him.Anon, as patient as the female doveWhen that her golden couplets are disclosed. |
| Scene 2HamletSimile | I will be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignoranceYour skill shall, like a star i’ th’ darkest nightStick fiery off indeed. |
| Scene 2King | 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 drunk to Hamlet’s better breath,And in the cup an union shall he throwRicher than that which four successive kingsIn Denmark’s crown have worn. |
| Scene 2Laertes | Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric.I am justly killed with mine own treachery. |
| Scene 2 Laertes | It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain;No med’cine in the world can do thee good.In thee there is not half an hour’s life.The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,Unbated and envenomed. The foul practiceHath turned itself on me. Lo, here I lie,Never to rise again. Thy mother’s poisoned.I can no more. The King, the King’s to blame. |
| Scene 2HoratioMetaphor | Never believe it,I am more an antique Roman than a dane.Here’s yet some liquor left. |
| Scene 2 HoratioHyperbole | Good night, sweet Prince,And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. |
| Scene 2 Fortinbras | This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death,What feast is toward in thine eternal cell That thou so many princes at a shotSo bloodily hast struck? |
| Scene 2Ambassador | 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 fulfilled,That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.Where should we have our thanks? |
| Scene 2Horatio | But since, so jump upon this bloody question,You from the Polack wars, and you from England,Are here arrived, give order that these bodiesHigh on a stage be placèd to the view,And let me speak to th’ yet unknowing worldHow these things came about. |
| Scene 2 Fortinbras Simlie | Let four capptainsBear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage,For he was likely, had he been put on,To have proved most royal; and for his passageThe soldiers’ music and the rite of warSpeak loudly for him,Take up the bodies. Such a sight as thisBecomes the field, but here shows much amiss.Go, bid the soldiers shoot. |
Hamlet Act V
August 24, 2019