Page 372 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

Nor thine on me.
Dies.

HAMLET
Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee.
I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu.
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,

That are but mutes or audience to this act, [340]
Had I but time − as this fell sergeant, Death,
Is strict in his arrest − O, I could tell you

But let it be. Horatio, I am dead,
Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied.

HORATIO
Never believe it. [345]
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.

Here’s yet some liquor left.

HAMLET
As th’art a man
Give me the cup. Let go, by Heaven I’ll ha’t.
O God, Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me. [350]
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain
To tell my story.

A march afar off and shot within.
What warlike noise is this?

Enter Osric.

OSRIC
Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, [355]
To the ambassadors of England gives

This warlike volley.