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2nd Clo. Why, he had none.

murder! This might be the pate of a politician, 1st Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou | which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would understand the scripture? The scripture says, circumvent God; might it not? Adam digged: could he dig without arms? I'll Hor. It might, my lord. put another question to thee: if thou answerest Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say, me not to the purpose, confess thyself,

“Good-morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, 2nd Clo. Go to.

good lord?” This might be my lord Such-a-one, 1st Clo. What is he that builds stronger than that praised my lord Such-a-one's horse, when he either the mason, the shipwright, or the car meant to beg it; might it not? penter?

Hor. Ay, my lord. 2nd Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's; outlives a thousand tenants.

chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a Ist Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the sexton's spade: here's fine revolution, an we had gallows does well: but how does it well? it does the trick to see 't! Did these bones cost no more well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to the breeding, but to play at loggats with them? say the gallows is built stronger than the church: mine ache to think on't. argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't

1st Clown sings. again; come. 2nd Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason,

A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, a shipwright, or a carpenter?

For—and a shrouding sheet: 1st Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

0, a pit of clay for to be made 2nd Clo. Marry, now I can tell.

For such a guest is meet. 1st Clo. To't.

[Throws up a skull. 2nd Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.

Ham. There's another: why may not that be Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.

the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now,

his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? 1st Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beat him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will ing: and when you are asked this question next, not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! say, a grave-maker; the houses that he makes, This fellow might be in 's time a great buyer of last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and land, with his statutes, his recognisances, his fetch me a stoup of liquor. [Exit 2nd Clown. fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is

this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his 1st Clown digs, and sings.

recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? In youth, when I did love, did love,

will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purMethought it was very sweet,

chases, and double ones too, than the length and To contract, 0, the time, for, ah, my behove,

breadth of a pair of indentures? The very con0, methought there was nothing meet. veyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box;

and must the inheritor himself have no more? Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business?

ha? he sings at grave-making.

Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins ? of easiness.

Hor. Ay, my lord, and calves'-skins too. Ham. "Tis e'en so: the hand of little employ

Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek ment hath the daintier sense.

out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow.

Whose grave's this, sirrah? 1st Clown sings.

1st Clo. Mine, sir.
But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath clawed me in his clutch,

0, a pit of clay for to be made
And hath shipped me into the land,

For such a guest is meet. As if I had never been such. [Throws up a skull. Ham. I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest

in 't. Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could | 1st Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground,

| not yours : for my part, I do not lie in 't, yet it is as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first mine.

Ham. Thou dost lie in 't, to be in 't, and say it is | us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years thine: 'tis for the dead, and not for the quick; I have taken note of it; the age is grown therefore thou liest.

80 picked, that the toe of the peasant comes 1st Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir ; 't will away again, so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his from me to you.

kibe. — How long hast thou been a graveHam. What man dost thou dig it for?

maker? 1st Clo. For no man, sir.

1st Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came Ham. What woman, then?

to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame 1st Clo. For none, neither.

Fortinbras. Ham. Who is to be buried in 't?

Ham. How long is that since ? 1st Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest 1st Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can her soul, she's dead.

| tell that: it was that very day that young HamHam. How absolute the knave is! we must let was born; he that is mad, and sent into speak by the card, or equivocation will undo | England.

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Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into Eng- | you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will land?

last you nine year. 1st Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall Ham. Why he more than another? recover his wits there; or if he do not, 't is no 1st Clo. Why, sir, bis hide is so tanned with his great matter there.

trade, that he will keep out water a great while; Ham. Why?

and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson 1st Clo. 'T will not be seen in him there; there dead body. Here's a skull now hath lain you the men are as mad as he.

i'the earth three-and-twenty years. Ham. How came he mad?

Ham. Whose was it? 1st Clo. Very strangely, they say.

1st Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was : whose Ham. How strangely?

do you think it was? 1st Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits. Ham. Nay, I know not. Ham. Upon what ground?

1st Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 1st Clo. Why, here in Denmark. I have been he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's Ham. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere jester. he rot?

Ham. This?

[Takes the skull. 1st Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he || 1st Clo. E'en that. die (as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, Ham. Alas, poor Yorick !-I knew him, Hothat will scarce hold the laying in), he will last ratio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent



fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination own grinning ? quite chapfallen? Now get you to it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips | my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where inch thick, to this favour she must come: make be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? | her laugh at that.—Pr'y thee, Horatio, tell me your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set one thing.


Hor. What's that, my lord ?

May violets spring !- I tell thee, churlish priest, Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o’this A ministering angel shall my sister be, fashion i' the earth ?

When thou liest howling. Hor. E'en so.

Ham. What, the fair Ophelia! Ham. And smelt so? pah!

Queen. Sweets to the sweet: farewell! [Throws down the skull.

[Scattering flowers. ! Hor. E'en so, my lord.

I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Ho

wife: ratio? Why may not imagination trace the noble I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung

maid, hole?

And not have strewed thy grave. Hor. 'T were to consider too curiously, to con Laer. O, treble woe sider so.

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to Deprived thee of !-Hold off the earth awhile, lead it :-as thus : Alexander died, Alexander Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the

[Leaps into the grave. dust is earth; of earth we make loam : and why Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead; of that loam whereto he was converted, might Till of this flat a mountain you have made they not stop a beer-barrel?

To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head Imperial Cæsar, dead, and turned to clay, Of blue Olympus. Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: Ham. [advancing). What is he whose grief ! O, that that earth which kept the world in awe, Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! Conjures the wondering stars, and makes them But soft; but soft! aside :-here comes the king,


Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Enter Priests, &c., in procession; the corpse of

Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave. Ophelia; Laertes, and Mourners, following;

Laer. The devil take thy soul ! King, Queen, their Trains, fc.

(Grappling with him. The queen, the courtiers : who is this they follow? Ham. Thou pray'st not well. And with such maiméd rites ! This doth betoken, I pr’y thee take thy fingers from my throat; The corse they follow did with desperate hand For though I am not splenetive and rash, Foredo its own life. "T was of some estate: Yet have I in me something dangerous, Couch we awhile, and mark.

Which let thy wisdom fear: hold off thy hand. [Retiring with Horatio. King. Pluck them asunder. Laer. What ceremony else?

Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! Ham. That is Laertes,

AU. Gentlemen,A very noble youth : mark.

Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. Laer. What ceremony else?

[The Attendants part them, and they come 1st Priest. Her obsequies have been as far

out of the grave. enlarged

Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this As we have warranty: her death was doubtful;

theme, And, but that great command o'ersways the order, | Until my eyelids will no longer wag. She should in ground unsanctified have lodged Queen. O my son! what theme? Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, Ham. I loved Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on Could not, with all their quantity of love, her;

Make up my sum.—What wilt thou do for her? Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,

King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Queen. For love of God, forbear him.
Of bell and burial.

Ham. 'Zounds, shew me what thou 'lt do:
Laer. Must there no more be done?

Would't weep? would't fight? would't fast? 1st Priest. No more be done!

would't tear thyself? We should profane the service of the dead, Would't drink up Esil? eat a crocodile ? To sing a requiem, and such rest to her

I'll do 't.-Dost thou come here to whine? As to peace-parted souls.

To outface me with leaping in her grave? Laer. Lay her i' the earth;

Be buried quick with her, and so will I : And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw

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