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We

want

a

little

something

to

answer

encores

with

,

anyway

.

"

"

What

's

onkores

,

Bilgewater

?

"

The

duke

told

him

,

and

then

says

:

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"

I

'll

answer

by

doing

the

Highland

fling

or

the

sailor

's

hornpipe

;

and

you

--

well

,

let

me

see

--

oh

,

I

've

got

it

--

you

can

do

Hamlet

's

soliloquy

.

"

"

Hamlet

's

which

?

"

"

Hamlet

's

soliloquy

,

you

know

;

the

most

celebrated

thing

in

Shakespeare

.

Ah

,

it

's

sublime

,

sublime

!

Always

fetches

the

house

.

I

have

n't

got

it

in

the

book

--

I

've

only

got

one

volume

--

but

I

reckon

I

can

piece

it

out

from

memory

.

I

'll

just

walk

up

and

down

a

minute

,

and

see

if

I

can

call

it

back

from

recollection

's

vaults

.

"

So

he

went

to

marching

up

and

down

,

thinking

,

and

frowning

horrible

every

now

and

then

;

then

he

would

hoist

up

his

eyebrows

;

next

he

would

squeeze

his

hand

on

his

forehead

and

stagger

back

and

kind

of

moan

;

next

he

would

sigh

,

and

next

he

'd

let

on

to

drop

a

tear

.

It

was

beautiful

to

see

him

.

By

and

by

he

got

it

.

He

told

us

to

give

attention

.

Then

he

strikes

a

most

noble

attitude

,

with

one

leg

shoved

forwards

,

and

his

arms

stretched

away

up

,

and

his

head

tilted

back

,

looking

up

at

the

sky

;

and

then

he

begins

to

rip

and

rave

and

grit

his

teeth

;

and

after

that

,

all

through

his

speech

,

he

howled

,

and

spread

around

,

and

swelled

up

his

chest

,

and

just

knocked

the

spots

out

of

any

acting

ever

I

see

before

.

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This

is

the

speech

--

I

learned

it

,

easy

enough

,

while

he

was

learning

it

to

the

king

:

To

be

,

or

not

to

be

;

that

is

the

bare

bodkin

That

makes

calamity

of

so

long

life

;

For

who

would

fardels

bear

,

till

Birnam

Wood

do

come

to

Dunsinane

,

But

that

the

fear

of

something

after

death

Murders

the

innocent

sleep

,

Great

nature

's

second

course

,

And

makes

us

rather

sling

the

arrows

of

outrageous

fortune

Than

fly

to

others

that

we

know

not

of

.

There

's

the

respect

must

give

us

pause

:

Wake

Duncan

with

thy

knocking

!

I

would

thou

couldst

;

For

who

would

bear

the

whips

and

scorns

of

time

,

The

oppressor

's

wrong

,

the

proud

man

's

contumely

,

The

law

's

delay

,

and

the

quietus

which

his

pangs

might

take

,

In

the

dead

waste

and

middle

of

the

night

,

when

churchyards

yawn

In

customary

suits

of

solemn

black

,

But

that

the

undiscovered

country

from

whose

bourne

no

traveler

returns

,

Breathes

forth

contagion

on

the

world

,

And

thus

the

native

hue

of

resolution

,

like

the

poor

cat

i

'

the

adage

,

Is

sicklied

o'er

with

care

,

And

all

the

clouds

that

lowered

o'er

our

housetops

,

With

this

regard

their

currents

turn

awry

,

And

lose

the

name

of

action

.

'

Tis

a

consummation

devoutly

to

be

wished

.

But

soft

you

,

the

fair

Ophelia

:

Ope

not

thy

ponderous

and

marble

jaws

,

But

get

thee

to

a

nunnery

--

go

!

Well

,

the

old

man

he

liked

that

speech

,

and

he

mighty

soon

got

it

so

he

could

do

it

first-rate

.

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