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  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)

    The Tragedie of Hamlet
    Hor. I my lord, no otherwise.
    Ham. No, why might not imagination worke, as thus of
    Alexander, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander
    became earth, of earth we make clay, and Alexander being
    but clay, why might not time bring to passe, that he might
    stoppe the boung hole of a beere barrell?
    3400Imperious sar dead and turnd to clay,
    Might stoppe a hole, to keepe the winde away.
    Enter King and Queene, Leartes, and other lordes,
    3405with a Priest after the coffin.
    Ham. What funerall's this that all the Court laments?
    3410It shews to be some noble parentage:
    Stand by a while.
    Lear. What ceremony else? say, what ceremony else?
    3415Priest My Lord, we haue done all that lies in vs,
    3415And more than well the church can tolerate,
    3415.1She hath had a Dirge sung for her maiden soule:
    And but for fauour of the king, and you,
    She had beene buried in the open fieldes,
    Where now she is allowed christian buriall.
    Lear. So, I tell thee churlish Priest, a ministring Angell
    shall my sister be, when thou liest howling.
    Ham. The faire Ofelia dead!
    3435Queene Sweetes to the sweete, farewell:
    I had thought to adorne thy bridale bed, faire maide,
    And not to follow thee vnto thy graue.
    Lear. Forbeare the earth a while: sister farewell:
    Leartes leapes into the graue.
    3445Now powre your earth on, Olympus hie,
    And make a hill to o're top olde Pellon:
    Hamlet leapes
    Whats he that coniures so?
    Ham. Beholde tis I, Hamlet the Dane.
    Lear. The diuell take thy soule.
    3455Ham. O thou praiest not well,
    I prethee take thy hand from off my throate,
    For there is something in me dangerous,