Thursday, July 01, 2004
SONS OF HARRY TURNERS EVIDENCE
WHERE BE YOUR GIBES NOW? YOUR GAMBALS?
ACT 5 - Scene 1
Ham - Hamlet - Son to the former, and nephew to the present king.
Hor - Horatio - Friend to Hamlet.
Clo -Clowns - Gravediggers.
Ham - Whose was it?
Clo - A whoreson mad Fellowes it was;
Whose doe you thinke it was?
Ham - Nay, I know not
Clo - A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a
Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull
Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester
Ham - This?
Clo - E'ene that
Ham - Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio,
a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he
hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how
abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere
hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now? Your Gambals? Your
Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to
set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies
Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this
fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee
Horatio tell me one thing
Hor - What's that my Lord?
Ham - Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion
i'th' earth?
Hor - E'ene so
Ham - And smelt so? Puh
Hor - E'ene so, my Lord
Ham - To what base vses we may returne Horatio.
Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander,
till he find it stopping a bunghole
Hor - 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so
Ham - No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether
with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus.
Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth
into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make
Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted)
might they not stopp a Beere-barrell?
Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away.
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw.
But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King.
The Tragedie of Hamlet
by William Shakespeare - 1604
|
WHERE BE YOUR GIBES NOW? YOUR GAMBALS?
ACT 5 - Scene 1
Ham - Hamlet - Son to the former, and nephew to the present king.
Hor - Horatio - Friend to Hamlet.
Clo -Clowns - Gravediggers.
Ham - Whose was it?
Clo - A whoreson mad Fellowes it was;
Whose doe you thinke it was?
Ham - Nay, I know not
Clo - A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a
Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull
Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester
Ham - This?
Clo - E'ene that
Ham - Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio,
a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he
hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how
abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere
hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now? Your Gambals? Your
Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to
set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies
Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this
fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee
Horatio tell me one thing
Hor - What's that my Lord?
Ham - Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion
i'th' earth?
Hor - E'ene so
Ham - And smelt so? Puh
Hor - E'ene so, my Lord
Ham - To what base vses we may returne Horatio.
Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander,
till he find it stopping a bunghole
Hor - 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so
Ham - No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether
with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus.
Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth
into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make
Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted)
might they not stopp a Beere-barrell?
Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away.
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw.
But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King.
The Tragedie of Hamlet
by William Shakespeare - 1604
|
