SORROW
Storyboard Text
- Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.If Hamlet give the first or second hit Or quit in answer of the third exchange,Let all the battlements their ordnance fire! The king shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath,
- I’ll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed.
- I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive in this case should stir me most To my revenge. But in my terms of honor I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement Till by some elder masters, of known honor,
- If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their repair hither and say you are not fit.
- Gertrude, do not drink.
- Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
- Good madam.
- It is the poisoned cup. It is too late
- I will, my lord. I pray you, pardon me.
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