|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:30:03 GMT
HAMLET How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:30:18 GMT
First Clown I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:30:44 GMT
HAMLET Why he more than another?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:30:54 GMT
First Clown Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he 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 has lain in the earth three and twenty years.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:31:04 GMT
HAMLET Whose was it?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:31:16 GMT
First Clown A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:31:28 GMT
HAMLET Nay, I know not.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:31:55 GMT
First Clown A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:32:05 GMT
HAMLET This?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:32:15 GMT
First Clown E'en that.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:32:30 GMT
HAMLET 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 rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed 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-fallen? 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.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:32:40 GMT
HORATIO What's that, my lord?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:32:50 GMT
HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:33:00 GMT
HORATIO E'en so.
|
|
|
Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 12, 2014 3:33:12 GMT
HAMLET And smelt so? pah! Puts down the skull
|
|