And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. | 197 I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal, that but dip a knife in it, Under the moon, can save the thing from death, King. And that our drift look through our bad performance, 198 When in your motion you are hot and dry, 199 (As make your bouts more violent to that end) If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, How now, sweet queen? Enter Queen. Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow. Laer. Drown'd? Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. where? Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, As one incapable of her own distress, Laer. Alas! then is she drown'd! Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. 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, I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, King. Exit. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. A Church-Yard. 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 the crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial. : 1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence? 2 Clo. Why, 't is found so. 1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. 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. 200 201 202 203 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 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 shall have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and gravemakers; they hold up Adam's profession. 2 Clo. 1 Clo. 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman ? He was the first that ever bore arms. 1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand - 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.' o't again; come. 2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, 204 1 Clo. Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker: the houses that stoop of liquor. Ham. 1 Clown digs, and sings. In youth, when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet, [Exit 2 Clown. To contract, O! the time, for, ah! my behove, O, methought, there was nothing meet. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave - making? Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. 'Tis e'en so the hand of little employment hath the Ham. daintier sense. 1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps, Hath claw'd me in his clutch, As if I had never been such. [Throws up a scull. | Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: 205 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. Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say, "Good-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 Worm's; 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. A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet: O! a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. [Sings. [Throws up another scull. | There's another: why may not that be the scull of 206 a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, Ham. 207 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 tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in 's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, 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 hardly lie in this box, and must the inheritor himself have no more? ha? Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins? Hor. Ham. sirrah? | They are sheep and calves, which seek out assurance I will speek to this fellow. Whose grave's this, Mine, Sir. 208 Ham. 1. Clo. O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. [Sings. I think, it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in 't. You lie out on 't, Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in 't, yet it is mine. Ham. Thou dost lie in 't, to be in 't, and say it is thine: 't is for the dead, not for the quick; therefore, thou liest. 1 Clo. 'T is a quick lie, Sir; 't will away again, from me to you. Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 1 Clo. Ham. 1 Clo. Ham. For no man, Sir. What woman, then? For none, neither. 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. these three years I have taken note By the lord, Horatio, of it; the age is grown How long hast thou so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel 1 Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to 't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. |
