Read the excerpt from Hamlet.Hamlet: My fears forgetting manners—to unsealTheir grand commission; where I found, Horatio, O royal knavery! an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark’s health, and England’s too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.
Read the excerpt from Hamlet. Voltimand: . . . On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, Makes vow before his uncle never more To give the assay of arms against your majesty. Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee, And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack; With an entreaty, herein further shown, [Giving a paper.]
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Read the excerpt from Act IV of Hamlet.Ophelia:Larded with 'sweet flower;Which bewept to the grave did goWith true-love showers.Claudius: How do you, pretty lady?Ophelia: Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table!
Read the excerpt from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard.ROS Well I can tell you I’m sick to death of it. I don’t care one way or another, so why don’t you make up your mind.GUIL We can’t afford anything quite so arbitrary. Nor did we come all this way for a christening. All that—preceded us. But we are comparatively fortunate; we might have been left to sift the whole field of human nomenclature, like two blind men looting a bazaar for their own portraits. . . . At least we are presented with alternatives.ROS Well as from now—GUIL —But not choice.ROS You made me look ridiculous in there.GUIL I looked just as ridiculous as you did.ROS (an anguished cry) Consistency is all I ask!GUIL (low, wry rhetoric) Give us this day our daily mask.ROS (a dying fall) I want to go home. (Moves.) Which way did we come in? I’ve lost my sense of direction.GUIL The only beginning is birth and the only end is death—if you can’t count on that, what can you count on?
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