Soliloquy of the Faithful
By: Missfortune
Disclaimer: Horatio, Hamlet and the like is property of Shakespeare. I merely presume to put words in the mouth of a dead man.
Notes: I'm sorry, but there is this nagging that says something goes on between Horatio and Hamlet. Horatio is never fully developed other than in his trustworthiness. Forgive this lowly maid for her presumptions. Possibly provide this miserable one with feedback? If only to berate my poor use of art and Olde English. At least I didn't try the pentameters!

Those lips that I have so many times pressed to mine are cold as the heart of winter. Never again to part and drop their honeyed words into mine ears.

Alas sweet Prince! Why have you forsaken me? Would that I could join you in your eternal slumber. Damned to go on and proclaim your fate. Your sorrow.

Had the madness penetrated so deeply into thy noble brow that you would leave me in mine worldly misery without a thought for loyal Horatio? You would mourn poor Yorick but of Horatio feel naught?

In death dost a faithful worshiper at thy temple doors have no happy home within thy vaporous breast? No whisper of cloudy affection? Willst not thy shadowed form visit upon this man a sign? A sign that I may shed my coils and join thee in the ever end.

Sweet curls of ebon frame thy waxen visage. Handsome in the end as in the beginning in which fortune birthed you from thy mother's womb only to tear her affections away and rub salt in thy wounds. Would that I, base as I be, shelter you like mother to babe in my hearty bosom, from Luck's whorish affection, to love when one is up and scorn when one is lowly.

Oh goodly Prince, what earthly treasures I wouldst give if only thou wouldst rise once more. Arise oh fairy Prince of dreams! Arise again to take me to mine final state.

But soothe gentle Prince, it is not your place to worry. For if mine self is pure, I will find my way to you. Stay awhile more my Prince, for your I shall meet thee soon. Faithful Horatio will ever be your servant.

The instrument of thy downfall shall be mine as well. One foul prick twill finish the task, for my heart is dead. 'Tis only for my body to follow.

Adieu, Adieu, oh world, most cruel. Fare thee well or ill lady fortunes and fates. Horatio goes on ever long to meet Noble Hamlet.