Ham. Come on sir
Laer. Come on sir.
Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit
Laer. Well: againe
King. Stay, giue me drinke. Hamlet, this Pearle is thine, Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,
Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.
Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while. Come: Another hit; what say you? Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse
King. Our Sonne shall win
Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath. Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes, The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet
Ham. Good Madam
King. Gertrude, do not drinke
Qu. I will my Lord; I pray you pardon me
King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late
Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam, By and by
Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face
Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now
King. I do not thinke't
Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience
Ham. Come for the third. Laertes, you but dally, I pray you passe with your best violence, I am affear'd you make a wanton of me
Laer. Say you so? Come on.
Osr. Nothing neither way
Laer. Haue at you now.
In scuffling they change Rapiers.
King. Part them, they are incens'd
Ham. Nay come, againe
Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa
Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord? Osr. How is't Laertes? Laer. Why as a Woodcocke To mine Sprindge, Osricke, I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie
Ham. How does the Queene? King. She sounds to see them bleede
Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke. Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke, I am poyson'd
Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd. Treacherie, seeke it out
Laer. It is heere Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slaine, No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life; The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand, Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye, Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd: I can no more, the King, the King's too blame
Ham. The point envenom'd too, Then venome to thy worke.
Hurts the King.
All. Treason, Treason
King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt
Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous, Damned Dane, Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere? Follow my Mother.
Laer. He is iustly seru'd. It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe: Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet; Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee, Nor thine on me.
Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee. I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew, You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance, That are but Mutes or audience to this acte: Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you. But let it be: Horatio, I am dead, Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right To the vnsatisfied
Hor. Neuer beleeue it. I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane: Heere's yet some Liquor left
Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup. Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't. Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name, (Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me. If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicitie awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine, To tell my Storie.