The Laurence Olivier Awards 1997 Page #11

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The readiness is all.

Theres a divinity

that shapes our ends,

rough hew them

how we will.

Let be.

Come, Hamlet, come.

And take this hand from me.

Give me your pardon, sir.

Ive done you wrong.

But pardon it,

as you are a gentleman.

This presence knows,

and you must needs have heard,

how I am punished

with a sore distraction.

What I have done, that might your

nature, honor and exception roughly awake,

I here proclaim was madness.

Wast Hamlet wronged, Laertes?

Never Hamlet. If Hamlet

from himself be taken away...

and when hes not himself

does wrong Laertes,

then Hamlet does it not,

Hamlet denies it.

Who does it then?

His madness?

If it be so, Hamlet is

of the faction that is wronged.

His madness

is poor Hamlets enemy.

Sir, in this audience let my disclaiming

from a purposed evil...

free me so far in your

most generous thoughts...

that I have shot my arrow

oer the house...

and hurt my brother.

- Give us the foils. Come on.

- Ill be your foil, Laertes.

In my ignorance your skills shall,

like a star in the darkest night,

- shine fiery indeed.

- You mock me, sir.

- No, by this hand.

- Give them the foils, young Osric.

- Cousin Hamlet, you know the wager?

- Very well, my lord.

- Your Grace has laid the odds on the weaker side.

- I do not fear it.

I have seen you both. But since he

is bettered, we have therefore odds.

This is too heavy.

Let me see another.

This likes me well.

These swords have all a length.

Aye, my good lord.

Set me the stoups of wine

upon that table.

If Hamlet give the first

or second hit,

let all the battlements

their ordnance fire.

The king shall drink

to Hamlets better breath,

and in the cup a jewel

shall he throw,

richer than that

which four successive kings...

in Denmarks crown

have worn.

Give me the cup.

And let the kettle

to the trumpet speak,

the trumpet to the cannoneer

without,

the cannons to the heavens,

the heavens to earth.

Now the king drinks

to Hamlet!

Now the king

drinks to Hamlet!

Come, begin.

And you the judges, bear a wary eye.

- Come on, sir.

- Come, my lord.

- One! Judgment.

- No!

A hit.

A very palpable hit.

Well, again.

Stay.

Give me drink.

Hamlet,

this pearl is thine.

Heres to thy health.

Give him the cup.

Ill play this bout first.

Set it by a while.

Come.

Another hit, what say you?

A touch, a touch.

I do confess.

Our son shall win.

Hes hot and scant

of breath.

Here, Hamlet, take my napkin.

Rub thy brows.

Good Gertrude,

do not drink!

I will, my lord.

I pray you pardon me.

The queen carouses

to thy fortune, Hamlet.

Good, madam.

- Its too late.

- My lord, Illl hit him now.

I do not think it.

It is almost gainst

my conscience.

Let me wipe thy face.

Come, for the third, Laertes.

You do but dally!

I pray you, pass with your best violence.

I am afeared you make a wanton of me.

Say you so?

Come on.

Nothing.

Neither way.

Have at you now!

Part them.

They are incensed!

- Stay!

- Nay, come again!

- How is it, Laertes?

- Im justly killed,

with mine own treachery.

- How is it, my lord?

- How does the queen?

- She swoons to see them bleed.

-No.

No. The drink.

The drink.

O my dear Hamlet.

Oh, villainy.

Oh, let the door

be locked!

Treachery!

Seek it out!

It is here, Hamlet.

Hamlet, thou art slain.

In thee there is not

half an hour of life.

The treacherous instrument

is in thy hand,

unbated and envenomed.

The foul practice

hath turned itself on me.

Lo, here I lie,

never to rise again.

Thy mothers poisoned.

I can no more.

The king.

The kings to blame.

The point envenomed too.

Then, venom, to thy end!

Exchange forgiveness

with me, noble Hamlet.

Mine and my fathers death

come not upon thee.

Nor thine on me.

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,

had I but time-

As this fell sergeant, Death,

is strict in his arrest-

Oh, I could tell you.

But let it be.

I die, Horatio.

The potent poison

quite oer grows my spirit.

If thou didst ever hold me

in thy heart,

absent thee from felicity

a while.

And in this harsh world,

draw thy breath in pain,

to tell my story.

The rest...

is silence.

Let four captains bear Hamlet

like a soldier to the stage.

For he was likely,

had he been put on,

to have proved most royal.

And for his passage,

the soldiers music

and the rites of war...

speak loudly for him.

Go.

Bid the soldiers shoot.

Good night, sweet prince.

And flights of angels

sing thee to thy rest.

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