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Wee'le make a solemne wager on your cunnings,
I hau't *, when in your motion you are hote and dry,
As make your bouts more violent to that end,
And that he calls for drinke, Ile haue preferd him
A challice for the once I, whereon but fipping,
If he by chance escape your venom’d stucke,
Our purpose may hold there ; but stay, what noyse?

Enter queene..

Quee. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele,
So fast they follow; your Gisters drownd Laertes.

Laer. Drown'd, O where?

Quee. There is a willow growes ascaunt the brooke,
That showes his hoary leaues in the glassy streame,
There with fantastique garlands did she make
Of crowflowers, nettles, dasies, and long purples
That liberall shepheards giue a grosser name,
But our cull-cold maydes doe dead mens fingers call them.
There on the pendant boughes her coronet weeds
Clambring to hang, an enuious Nuer broke,
When down her weedy trophæs and her selfe,
Fell in the weeping brooke, her clothes spred wide,
And mermaide-like a while they bore her vp,
Which time the chaunted snatches of old laudes,
As one incapable of her owne distresse.
Or like a creature, natiue and indewed
Vnto that element, but long it could not be
Till that her garments heauy with their drinke,
Puld the poore wench s from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laer. Alas then is she drownd.
Quee. Drownd, drownd.

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Lar. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid

my teares; but yet
It is our tricke, nature her custome holds,
Let shame say what it will, when these are gone,
The woman will be out. Adiew my lord,
I haue a speech a fire that faine would blase,
But that this folly drownes it.

King. Lets follow Gertrard.
How much I had to doe to calme his rage,
Now feare I this will giue it start againe.
Therefore lets follow,

Exit.

Exeunt.

Enter two clownes.

Clowne. Is she to be buried in christian buriall, when she wilfully seekes her owne faluation ?

Other. I tell thee she is, therfore make her graue straight, the crowner hath fate on her, and finds it christian buriall.

Clow. How can that be, vnlesse she drown'd herselfe in her owne defence.

Oth. Why tis found fo.

Clow. It must be so offended, it cannot be else, for heere lyes the poynt, if I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an act, and an act hath three branches, it is to act, to doe, to performe, or all; the drownd her felfe wittingly.

Oth. Nay, but heare you good man deluer.

Clow. Giue me leaue, here lies the water, good, here stands the man, good, if the man goe to this water and drowne himselfe, it is will he, nill he, he goes, marke you that, but if the water come to him, and drowne him, he drownes not himselfe, argall, he that is not guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life.

Oth. But is this law ?
Clow. I marry i'lt, crowners quest law,

Oth,

Oth. Will you ha the truth an't, if this had not beene a gentlewoman, she should haue bin buried out a christian buriall.

Clow. Why there thou fayft, and the more pitty that great folke should haue countenance in this world to drown or hang themselues, more then their euen christen : come my spade, there is no auncient gentlemen but gardners, ditchers, and graue-makers, they hold vp Adams profession.

Oth. Was he a gentleman ?

Clow. A was the first that euer bore armes. Ile put another question to thee, if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confesse thy selfe.

Oth Goe to.

Clow. What is he that builds stronger then either the mafon, the shipwright, or the carpenter.

Oth. The gallowes-maker, for that out-liues a thousand tennants.

Clow. I like thy wit well in good faith, the gallowes dooes well, but how dooes it well ? it dooes well to those that do ill, now thou dooft ill to say the gallowes is built stronger then the church, argal, the gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, come.

Other. Who buildes stronger then a mason, a fhipwright, or a carpenter.

Clow. I, tell me that and vnyoke.
Oth. Marry now I can tell.
Oth. Too't.
Clow. Male I cannot tell.

Clow. Cudgell thy braines no more about it, for your dull asse will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are askt this question next, say a graue-maker, the houses he makes laft tell doomesday. Goe get thee in and fetch me a loope of liquer.

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In youth when I did loue did loue,

Me thought it was very sweet
To contract O the time for a my behoue,

O me thought there a was nothing a meet.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio. Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his busines? a sings in graue-making.

Hora. Custome hath made it in him a property of easines.

Ha. Tis een so, the hand of little imploiment hath the daintier fence.

SONG.
Clow. But age with his stealing steppes

Hath clawed mee in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,

As if I had neuer beene such. Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once, how the knaue iowles it to the ground, as if twere Caines iawbone, that did the first murder : this might be the pate of a polliticia, which this afle now ore-reaches, one that would circumuent God, 'might it not?

Hora. It might my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say good morrow my lord : how dost thou fweet lord ? this might be my lord such a one, that praised my lord such a ones horse whē a ment I to beg it: might it not?

Hora. I my lord.

Ham. Why een fo, and now my lady wormes choples, and knockt about the mazer with a sextens spade; heer's fine reuolution and we had the trick to see't, did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggits with them : mine ake to thinke ont, • fweer. I went. maffene.

Song,

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Clow. A pickax and a spade a spade,

for and a shrowding sheet, Or a pit of clay for to be made

for such a guest is meet. Ham. There's another, why may not that be the skull of a lawyer ? where be his quiddities now, his quillities, his cafes, his tenurs, and his trickes? why dooes he suffer this mad knaue now to knock him about the sconce with a durty fhouell, and will not tell him of his action of battery: hum, this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his Itatutes, his recognisances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoueries, to haue his fine pate full of fine durt: will vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases and doubles then the length and breadth of a payre of indentures? the very conveyances of his lands will scarcely lye in this box, and must th’inheritor himselfc haue no more. ha.

Hora. Not a iot more my lord.
Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepe-skinnes ?
Hora. I my lord, and of calue-skinnes too.

Ham. They are sheepe and calues which seeke out assurance in that, I will speake to this fellow. Whose graue's this firra?

Clow. Mine fir, or a pit of clay for to be made.
Ham. I thinke it be thine indeede for thou lyest in't.

Clow. You lye out ont fır, and therefore tis not yours; for my part I doe not lye in't, yet it is mine.

Ham. Thou doft lye in't to be in't and say it is thine, tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest.

Clow. Tis a quicke lye fir, twill away againe from me to you.
Ham. What man dost thou digge it for ?
Clow. For no man sir.

Ham.

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