Laer.

To cut his throat i' the church.

King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
Hamlet, returned, shall know you are come home;
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, to

gether,

And wager on your heads; he, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice
Requite him for your father.

Laer.

I will do't; And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank,

So mortal that but dip a knife in it,

Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

130

140

King.

Let's further think of this;

Weigh what convenience both of time and means

May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,

150 And that our drift look through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assayed; therefore this project Should have a back or second that might hold,

If this should blast in proof. Soft! - let me see!
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings-
I ha't:

When in your motion you are hot and dry,—

As make your bouts more violent to that end,-
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
160 If he by chance escape your venomed stuck,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?
Enter QUEEN

How now, sweet queen!

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow. Your sister's drowned, Laertes.

Laer. Drowned! — Oh, where?

Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
170 That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,

But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them;
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element; but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laer.

Alas then, is she drowned?

Queen. Drowned, drowned.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet

It is our trick; nature her custom holds,

Let shame say what it will; when these are gone,
The woman will be out. · Adieu, my lord;

I have a speech of fire that fain would blaze,
But that this folly douts it.

King.

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190

[Exit

Let's follow, Gertrude;

How much I had to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I this will give it start again;
Therefore let's follow.

[Exeunt

ACT V

SCENE I

A Church-Yard

Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c.

1 Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial that willfully seeks her own salvation?

2 Clo. I tell thee she is; and therefore make her grave straight; the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defense?

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.

1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. 10 For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver, —

1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good: if the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, will he nill he, he goes; mark you that: but if the water come to him

and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that

is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own 20 life.

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 folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient 30 gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clo. A' was the first that ever bore arms.

2 Clo. Why, he had none.

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 –

2 Clo. Go to.

1 Clo. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

40