Is, the great love the general gender1 bear him: Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; For her perfections:-But my revenge will come. That we are made of stuff so flat and dull, Mess. Enter a Messenger. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: Laertes, you shall hear them :- As did that one; and that, in my regard, Laer. What part is that, my lord? Here was a gentleman of Normandy, I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, Laer. I know him well: he is the brooch, indeed, And gem of all the nation. King. He made confession of you; And gave you such a masterly report, For art and exercise in your defence. And for your rapier most especial, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: the scrimers of their ns[Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know, I am He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye, tion, set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his leave to see your kingly eyes; when I shall, first ask- Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,, ing your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion That he could nothing do, but wish and beg of my sudden and more strange return. Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. Now, out of this,— Hamlet. What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come; That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace. re As checking at his voyage, and that he means My lord, I will be rul'd; King. Laer. Laer. father; But that I know, love is begun by time; A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it; And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, Dies in his own too-much: That we would do, The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, to- And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss, Laer. So mortal, that but dip a knife in it, King. Let's further think of this; I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, SCENE I-A churchyard. Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c. 1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation? 2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her grave straight: 12 the crowner hath set on her, and finds it Christian burial. 1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence? 2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so. 1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself wittingly, argues an act; and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform: Ar "Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project When in your motion you are hot and dry, 2 Clo. But is this law? 1 Clo. Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law, 2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of Christian burial. 1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity; that great folks shall have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even13 Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman? 1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the scripture? The scripture says, Adam digged; Could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself 1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? 2 Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants. 1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to say, the gallows is built stronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again; come. 2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship. wright, or a carpenter? 1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.14 1 Clown digs, and sings. In youth, when I did love, did love,' Methought, it was very sweet, To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove, easiness. 1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps, Hath claw'd me in his clutch, And hath shipped me into the land, As if I had never been such. [Throws up a scull. Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not? Hor. It might, my Lord. 1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you. Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 1 Clo. For no man, sir. Ham. What woman then? 1 Clo. For none either. Ham. Who is to be buried in't? 1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the age has grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a 1 Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. Ham. How long's that since? Ham. Or of a courtier; which would say, Good-grave-maker? morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not? Hor. Ay, my lord. Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worms; chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: Here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with them? mine ache to think on't. 1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was that very day that young Hamlet was born: he that is mad, and sent into England. Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there. Ham. Why? 1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the 1 Clo. A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, [Sings. men are as mad as he. For-and a shrouding sheet: O, a pit of clay for to be made [Throws up a scull. Ham. How came he mad? 1 Clo. Very strangely, they say. 1 Clo. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. 1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere Ham. There's another: Why may not that be the scull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits' now, his 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 he rot? not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This 1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die (as fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you some double vouchers, his recoveries: Is this the fine of eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have nine year. 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 hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more? ha? (1) The song entire is printed in Percy's Reliques of ancient English Poetry, vol. i. It was written by Lord Vaux. (2) An ancient game, played as quoits are at present. Ham. Why he more than another? 1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a scull now hath lain you i'the earth three-and-twenty years. Ham. Whose was it? 1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose | Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants, do you think it was? Ham. Nay, I know not. 1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. Ham. This? 1 Clo. E'en that. [Takes the scull. Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Laer. Must there no more be done? Laer. Ham. 9 Lay her i'the earth :Ham. Alas! poor Yorick!-I knew him, Hora- And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, tio; a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent May violets spring!-I tell thee, churlish priest, fancy he hath borne me on his back a thousand A minist'ring angel shall my sister be, times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination When thou liest howling. it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, Where be that I have kissed I know not how oft. your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grin-I ning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour' she must come; make her laugh at that. Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my Lord? I What, the fair Ophelia. Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell! [Scattering flowers. hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife; thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, O, treble wo And not have strew'd thy grave. Laer. Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense Depriv'd thee of!-Hold off the earth a while, Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o'this Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: fashion i'the earth? Hor. E'en so. Ham. And smelt so? pah! [Throws down the scull. Hor. E'en so, my lord. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, 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 dust is earth; of earth we make loam: And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay, The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow? [Retiring with Horatio. Laer. What ceremony else? That is Laertes, 1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd 7 her; [Leaps into the grave. Ham. [Advancing.] What is he, whose grief Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, [Leaps into the grave. Ham. Thou pray'st not well. I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat Hamlet, Hamlet! Good my lord, be quiet. [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave. Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eyelids will no longer wag. Queen. O my son! what theme? Ham. I lov'd Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers Queen. For love of God, forbear him. Woul't drink up Esil ?11 eat a crocodile ? Hear you, sir; What is the reason that you use me thus ? [Exit. King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.[Exit Horatio. Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; [To Laertes. We'll put the matter to the present push.- and Horatio. Enter Hamlet As England was his faithful tributary; Hor. How was this seald? Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant I had my father's signet in my purse, Which was the model' of that Danish seal: Folded the writ up in form of the other; Subscrib'd it; gave't the impression; plac'd it safely, The changeling never known: Now, the next day, Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent" Thou know'st already. Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this em ployment: They are not near my conscience; their defeat Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see Does by their own insinuation grow: the other ; You do remember all the circumstance? Hor. Remember it, my lord! Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, That would not let me sleep: methought, I lay There's a divinity that shapes our ends, That is most certain. Ham. Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark Grop'd I to find out them: had my desire; Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew To mine own room again: making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio, A royal knavery; an exact command,Larded with many several sorts of reasons, Importing Denmark's health, and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off. Hor. Is't possible? Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure. But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? Hor. Ay, 'beseech you. Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much Hor. 'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes Hor. upon? He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; Popp'd in between the election and my hopes; Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage; is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd, To let this canker of our nature come Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England, What is the issue of the business there. Ham. It will be short: the interim is mine; The portraiture of his: I'll count's his favours: Peace; who comes here! Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. Ham. I humbly thank you, sir.-Dost know this water-fly ?16 Hor. No, my good lord. Ham Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him: He hath much land, and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'Tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty. Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit: Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head. Osr. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot. Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. |