HAM/THELLO: the moor of denmark
                                                         copyright © 2006 Jeff Goode


           SCENE 4 - The lobby of the castle.
                  Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, dragging IAGO's body
           HAMLET
              Safely stowed.
              Alas, poor Iago! 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. 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? 
              Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?
           HORATIO
              E'en so.
           HAMLET
              Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, 
              Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: 
              O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, 
              Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw! 
              But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.
                                             HAMLET attaches a letter to the corpse with a
                                                               dagger; Exeunt
                  Enter KING OTHELLO and OPHELIA
           OTHELLO 
              Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal, 
              And you must put me in your heart for friend, 
              Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, 
              That he which hath your noble father slain 
              Pursued my life.
           OPHELIA 
                                   It well appears: 
              And so have I a noble father lost; 
              Whose worth, if praises may go back again, 
              Stood challenger on mount of all the age 
              For his perfections: but my revenge will come.
           OTHELLO  
              You shortly shall hear more: 
              I loved your father, and we love ourself; 
              And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-- 
                                                    OPHELIA discovers the dead body
           OPHELIA
              Do you see this, O God?
           OTHELLO 
              O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
           OPHELIA
              O, treble woe
              Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
              Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
              Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
              Till I have caught him once more in mine arms.
                                                    OPHELIA finds HAMLET's letter
              What bloody business is this? 
           OTHELLO 
              What's the matter?
           OPHELIA
              There's a letter for you, sir.
           OTHELLO 
                                                                    Reads
              'High and mighty, To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first
              asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange revolt. In
              that and all things will we show our duty.  'HAMLET.'  
              What should this mean? 
              Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
           OPHELIA 
              I'm lost in it, my lord.  But let him come; 
              It warms the very sickness in my heart, 
              That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 
              'Thus didest thou.'
           OTHELLO 
              If it be so, Ophelia--
              Will you be ruled by me?
           OPHELIA 
              Ay, my lord;
              So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
           OTHELLO 
              To thine own peace, Ophelia,  I will work him 
              To an exploit, now ripe in my device, 
              Under the which he shall not choose but fall: 
              You have been talk'd of for a quality
              Wherein, they say, you shine:
              And for your rapier most especially, 
           OPHELIA 
              What out of this, my lord?
           OTHELLO  
              I bought an unction of a mountebank,
              So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
              Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
              Collected from all simples that have virtue
              Under the moon, can save the thing from death.
              We will bring you and he in fine together 
              And wager on your heads: he, being remiss, 
              Holding a weak supposal of your worth, 
              Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, 
              Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, 
              Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
              A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise 
              Requite him for your father.
           OPHELIA 
                                     I will do't:
              And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
           OTHELLO 
              Till then, in patience our proceeding be.
              An hour of quiet shortly shall we see.
                                                               Exit OPHELIA
              And for the Queen, when she is hot and dry-- 
              And that she calls for drink, I'll have prepared her 
              A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping ]
              The leperous distilment: she must die.
                                                                     Exit

Forth!