Act 5 — Scene 2The Tragedy of Hamlet

Page 86 of 88

Page 86

Queen: He’s fat, and scant of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. Hamlet: Good madam. King: Gertrude, do not drink. Queen: I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. King: (Aside.) It is the poison’d cup; it is too late. Hamlet: I dare not drink yet, madam. By and by. Queen: Come, let me wipe thy face. Laertes: My lord, I’ll hit him now. King: I do not think’t. Laertes: (Aside.) And yet ’tis almost ’gainst my conscience. Hamlet: Come for the third, Laertes. You do but dally. I pray you pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me. Laertes: Say you so? Come on. (They play.) Osric: Nothing neither way. Laertes: Have at you now. (Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling, they change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes.) King: Part them; they are incens’d. Hamlet: Nay, come again! (The Queen falls.) Osric: Look to the Queen there, ho! Horatio: They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? Osric: How is’t, Laertes? Laertes: Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric. I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery. Hamlet: How does the Queen? King: She swoons to see them bleed. Queen: No, no, the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poison’d. (Dies.) Hamlet: O villany! Ho! Let the door be lock’d: Treachery! Seek it out. (Laertes falls.) Laertes: It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain. No medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour of life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom’d. The foul practice Hath turn’d itself on me. Lo, here I lie, Never to rise again. Thy mother’s poison’d. I can no more. The King, the King’s to blame. Hamlet: The point envenom’d too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs the King.) Osric and Lords: Treason! treason! King: O yet defend me, friends. I am but hurt. Hamlet: Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? Follow my mother. (King dies.) Laertes: He is justly serv’d. It is a poison temper’d by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies.)
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