Изображения страниц
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

To contract, oh, the time for, a, my behove,

Oh, methought there was nothing so meet.
Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that
he fings at grave-making?

Hor, Custom hàth made it to him a property of ea-

Ham. 'Tis e'en fo; the hand of little employment
hath the daintier sense.

Clown fings.
But age with his stealing steps,

Haih claw'd me in his clutch :
And hath jhipped me into his land,

As if I had never been such.
Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could fing
once; how the knave jowles it to the ground, as if
it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the firk murther! This
might be the pate of a politician, which this ass o’er-
offices; one that would çircumvent Cod: might it not ?

Hor. It might, my Lord,
Ham. Or of a courtier, which could fay, “Good
morrow, sweet Lord; how dolt thou, good Lord ?"
This might be my Lord such a one, that prais't my
Lord such a one's horse, when he meant to beg it;
might it not?

Hor. Ay, my Lord.

Ham. Why, e'en fo: and now my Lady Worm's,
chapless, and knock'd about the mazzard with a fexa
ton's fpade. Here's a fine revolution, if we had the
trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breed-
ing, but to play at loggats with 'em ? mine ake to think

Clown fings.
A pick axe and a spade, a spade

For, and a lihrouding Meet!
O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.
Ham. There's another : why may not that be the
scull of a lawyer ? where be his quiddits now? bis
quillets ? his cases ? his tenures, and his tricks? why
does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about

the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not cell him of his action of battery Hum! this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his

recog. nisances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his re. coveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures ? the very conveyances of his lands will bardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himselfs have no more ? ha ?

Hor. Not a jot more, my Lord.
Ham Is not parchinent maje of sheep.skinso
Hor. Ay my Lord, and of calves-skins too.

Ham. They are sheep and calves that seek out assuerance in that. I will speak to this fellow. . Whole: grave's this, firrab ? Clown, Mine, sir

0, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet. Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou lielt in't,

Clown. You lye out on't, Sir, and therefore it is not? your's; for my part, I do not lye in't, yet it is mine.

Ham Thou doit lye in't, to be in't, and say, 'tis; thine : 'tis for the dead, and not for the quick, there. . fore tbou ly’lt.

Clown. 'Tis a quick lye, sir, 'twill away again from me to you

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for:
Clown. For no man, Sir.
Ham. What woman then?:
Clown. For none neither.
Ham. Who is to be buried in't?:

Clown. One that was a wounan, Sir; but, rest hery soul, The's dead.

Ham. liow absolute the knave is ? we muft fpeak by: the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it, the: age is grown so picked, that the toe- of the peasanto comes lo near the heel of our courtier, he galls his kibe.. How long halt thou been a grave-maker.

Clown. Of all the days i'th' year, I came to't that day that our last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras,

Ham. How long is that since ?

Clown. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that : it was that very day that young Hamlet was born, he that was mad, and lent into England,

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he fent into England?

Clown. Why, because he was mad; he shall recover his wirs there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.

Ham. Why?

Glown, 'Twill not be seen in him; there the men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?
Clown. Very strangely, they say.
Ham. How ftrangely?"
Clown. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits..
Ham. Upon what ground?

Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexe ton here, man and boy, thirty years.

Ham. How long will a man liei'th'earth ere he rot?

Clown. l'faith, if he be not rotten betore he die, (as. we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in), he will last you some eight year, or nine year; a tanner will last


years, Ham. Why he more than another ?

Clown. Why, Sir, his hide is fo tann'd with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while. water is a fore decayer of your whorson dead body. Here's a scull now has lain in the earth three and twena ty years.

Ham. Whofe was it?

Clown. A whorson mad fellow's it was; whose do you

think it was ? Ham. Nay, I know not,

Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once. This jame scull, Sir, was Yorick's scull, the King's jester.

Ham. This ?
Clown. E en chat.

Ham. Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jeft; of most excellent fancy : he hatha

And your

bcrne me on his back a thousand tiines ; and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kiss'd I know not bow oft, Where be your gibes now ; your gambols; your fongs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to fet the table in a roar? not one now, to mock your own grinning ? quite chap-fallen? now get you to my · Lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour fhe must come; make her laugh at that

Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my Lord?

Ham, Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fafhion i' ch' earth ?

Hor. E'en so,
Ham. And smelt fo, puh ! [Smelling to the scult.
Hor, E'en so, my Lord.

Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! wby may not imagination trace the noble dust of A. Jexander, till he find it stopping a bung hole ?

Hor. 'Twere to confider too curiouły, to consider so.

Ham. No, 'faith, not a jot : but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus : Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dult is carth ; of earth we make lome ; and why of that lome, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer barrel ? Imperial Cæfar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh that that earth which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall t'expeł the winter's flaw ! But soft! but soft a while bere comes the King,

S CE N E II. Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a coffin, with Lords

and Priests attendant, The Queen, the courtiers. What is that they follow, And with such maimed rites ? this doth betoken, The corse they follow did with desperate band Foredo its own life ; 'twas of some estate. Couch we a while, and mark,

Laar. What ceremony else?

Ham. That is Laertes a most noble youth : mark-
Laer. What ceremony else?

Priest Her obiequies have been so far enlarg'd
As we have warrantry; her death was doubtful :
And but that great command v'erlways the order,
She should in ground unsanaised have lodg'd
Till the last trümp.

For charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles, Ibould be thrown on her;,
Yet here The is allow'd her virgin chants,
Her maii'en strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial *.

Laer. Mul no more be done?

Priest. No more be done !
We should profane the service of the dead,,
To ling a Requiem, and such relt to her
As to peace-parted fouls.

Laer. Lay her i'th' earth;
* And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violents spring! I tell thee, churlith priesto: . A miniftring angel shall my liider be, 5. When thou liest howling.

Ham What, the fair Ophelia !

Queen Sweets to the sweei, farewel!
I hop'd thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife;.
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave.

Laer ( treble woe:
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious tense
Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth a while,
Till I have caught her once more in my arins ;

[Laertes leaps into the

grave, Now pile your duit upon the quick and dead, 'Till of this flat a mountain you have made, T'o'ertop old Pelion, or the tkyish head Of blue Olympus.

Ham. [discovering himself. ] What is he whose griefs Bear such an emphalis ? whole phrase of sorrow Gonjures the wand’iog dars and makes them Itand Like wonder-wouaded hearers ? this is I,

[Hamlet leaps into the grave;. Burial here significs interment in confecrated grour.d..

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »