What's that, my lord? HAMLET:
Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'(190)
the earth? HORATIO:
E'en so. HAMLET:
And smelt so? Pah! HORATIO:
E'en so, my lord. HAMLET:
To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may(195)
not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he
find it stopping a bung-hole? HORATIO:
'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. HAMLET:
No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus:(200)
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,(205)
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!
But soft! but soft awhile! Here comes the King,
The Queen, the courtiers.(210) [Enter Priests, in procession, corpes of Ophelia, Laertes and Mourners following King, Queen, and Attendants.]
Who is this they follow?
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
The corse they follow did with desperate hand
Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.
Couch we awhile, and mark.(215) LAERTES:
What ceremony else? HAMLET:
That is Laertes, a very noble youth. Mark. LAERTES:
What ceremony else? PRIEST:
Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful;(220)
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,(225)
Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
Of bell and burial. LAERTES:
Must there no more be done? PRIEST:
No more be done.
We should profane the service of the dead(230)
To sing a requiem and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls. LAERTES:
Lay her i' the earth;
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,(235)
A ministering angel shall my sister be
When thou liest howling. HAMLET:
What, the fair Ophelia? QUEEN:
Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.
I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;(240)
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave. LAERTES:
O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense(245)
Deprived 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
To o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head(250)
Of blue Olympus. HAMLET:
What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandering stars and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,(255)
Hamlet the Dane.
[Leaps in after Laertes.] LAERTES:
The devil take thy soul! HAMLET:
Thou pray'st not well.
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,(260)
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand! KING:
Pluck them asunder. QUEEN:
Hamlet, Hamlet! ALL:
Good my lord, be quiet. HAMLET:
Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag. QUEEN:
O my son, what theme? HAMLET:
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers(270)
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! HAMLET:
'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do.(275)
Woo't weep, woo't fight, woo't fast, woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up eisel, 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.(280)
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.(285) QUEEN:
This is mere madness;
And thus awhile the fit will work on him.
Anon, as patient as the female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will sit drooping.(290) HAMLET:
Hear you, sir!
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.(295) [Exit.] KING:
I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. [Exit Horatio.]
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.(300)
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. Exeunt.
A really funny "translation" into Modern English alongside original text here: No Fear Shakespeare: Hamlet: Act 5, Scene 1, Page 8
Or, in summary:
There, now we'll have our 1000 pages again soon!
And did you notice, Shakespeare got censored here!