Table of Contents

ACT V SCENE I� Setting:A churchyard. Setting:� Setting:�Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c.�

First Clown� Is she to be buried in Christian burial that � � wilfully seeks her own salvation? � Second Clown� I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave � � straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it � Christian burial. � First Clown� How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her � � own defence? � Second Clown� Why, 'tis found so. � First Clown� 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, to perform: argal, she drowned � � herself wittingly. � Second Clown� Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,–– First Clown� 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. � Second Clown� But is this law? �20 First Clown� Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law. � Second Clown� Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been � � a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' � Christian burial. � First Clown� 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 � gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave–makers: � � they hold up Adam's profession. � Second Clown� Was he a gentleman? �30 First Clown� He was the first that ever bore arms. � Second Clown� Why, he had none. First Clown� 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–– Second Clown� Go to. � First Clown� What is he that builds stronger than either the � � mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? � Second Clown� The gallows–maker; for that frame outlives a �40 � thousand tenants. First Clown� I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows � � does well; but how does it well? it does well to � � those that do in: 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. Second Clown� Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or � � a carpenter?' � First Clown� Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. � Second Clown� Marry, now I can tell. �50 First Clown� To't. Second Clown� Mass, I cannot tell. � � Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance. � First Clown� 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 he makes last till � doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a � � stoup of liquor. � � Exit Second Clown � � He�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, � O, methought, there was nothing meet. �61 HAMLET� Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he � � sings at grave–making? � HORATIO� Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. � HAMLET� Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath � the daintier sense. � First Clown� Sings. � � But age, with his stealing steps, � � Hath claw'd me in his clutch, � � And hath shipped me intil the land, �69 � As if I had never been such. � Throws up a skull. � HAMLET� That skull 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! It � � might be the pate of a politician, which this ass � � now o'er–reaches; one that would circumvent God, � might it not? � HORATIO� It might, my lord. � HAMLET� 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? �80 HORATIO� Ay, my lord. � HAMLET� 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 'em? mine ache to think on't. � First Clown: [Sings.]� 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. �90 � Throws up another skull. � HAMLET� There's another: why may not that be the skull of a � � lawyer? Where be his quiddities 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 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? � HORATIO� Not a jot more, my lord. � HAMLET� Is not parchment made of sheepskins? � HORATIO� Ay, my lord, and of calf–skins too. � HAMLET� They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance � in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose � � grave's this, sirrah? � First Clown� Mine, sir. �115 � Sings. � � O, a pit of clay for to be made � � For such a guest is meet. HAMLET� I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. � First Clown� You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not � � yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine. � HAMLET� Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine: � � tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. First Clown� Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to � � you. � HAMLET� What man dost thou dig it for? �120 First Clown� For no man, sir. � HAMLET� What woman, then? First Clown� For none, neither. � HAMLET� Who is to be buried in't? � First Clown� One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. � HAMLET� 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 a note of � � it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the � � peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he � � gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a � � grave–maker? First Clown� Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day � � that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. � HAMLET� How long is that since? � First Clown� Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it � � was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that � is mad, and sent into England. � HAMLET� Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? � First Clown� Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits � � there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there. �141 HAMLET� Why? First Clown� Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men � � are as mad as he. � HAMLET� How came he mad? � First Clown� Very strangely, they say. � HAMLET� How strangely? First Clown� Faith, e'en with losing his wits. � HAMLET� Upon what ground? � First Clown� Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man � � and boy, thirty years. �151 HAMLET� How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? First Clown� I' faith, if he be not rotten before 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 you nine year. � HAMLET� Why he more than another? First Clown� 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 skull now; this skull has lain in the earth � � three and twenty years. HAMLET� Whose was it? �162 First Clown� A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was? � HAMLET� Nay, I know not. � First Clown� A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a � � flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, � sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. � HAMLET� This? � First Clown� E'en that. �170 HAMLET� Let me see. � � Takes the skull. � � Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow � of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath � � borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how � � abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at � � it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know � � not how oft. Where be 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 grinning? 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. Prithee, Horatio, tell � � me one thing. � HORATIO� What's that, my lord? � HAMLET� Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' � � the earth? HORATIO� E'en so. � HAMLET� And smelt so? pah! � � Puts down the skull. � HORATIO� E'en so, my lord. � HAMLET� 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? �191 HORATIO� Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. � HAMLET� 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 into 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 Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, � � Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. � O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, � � Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw! � � But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king. � � Enter Priest, the Corpse of OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c. � � The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow? � � And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken � The corse they follow did with desperate hand � � Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. � � Couch we awhile, and mark. � � Retiring with HORATIO. � LAERTES� What ceremony else? � HAMLET� That is Laertes, � A very noble youth: mark. �210 LAERTES� What ceremony else? � First Priest� Her obsequies have been as far enlarged � � As we have warranty: her death was doubtful; � � And, but that great command o'ersways the order, � She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd � � Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers, � � Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her; � � Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, � � Her maiden strewments and the bringing home � Of bell and burial. �220 LAERTES� Must there no more be done? � First Priest� No more be done! � � We should profane the service of the dead � � To sing a requiem and such rest to her � As to peace–parted souls. � LAERTES� Lay her i' the earth: � � And from her fair and unpolluted flesh � � May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, � � A ministering angel shall my sister be, � When thou liest howling. � HAMLET� What, the fair Ophelia! � QUEEN GERTRUDE� Sweets to the sweet: farewell! � � Scattering flowers. � � I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; �230 � I thought thy bride–bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, � And not have strew'd thy grave. � LAERTES� O, treble woe � � Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, � � Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense � � Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, � Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: � � Leaps into the grave. � � Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, � � Till of this flat a mountain you have made, � � To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head � � Of blue Olympus. HAMLET� Advancing.�What is he whose grief � � Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow � � Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand � � Like wonder–wounded hearers? This is I, � � Hamlet the Dane. � � Leaps into the grave. � LAERTES� The devil take thy soul! � Grappling with him. � HAMLET� Thou pray'st not well. � � I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; � � For, though I am not splenitive and rash, � � Yet have I something in me dangerous, � � Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand. KING CLAUDIUS� Pluck them asunder. � QUEEN GERTRUDE� Hamlet, Hamlet! �250 All� Gentlemen,–– � HORATIO� Good my lord, be quiet. � � The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave. � HAMLET� Why I will fight with him upon this theme � Until my eyelids will no longer wag. � QUEEN GERTRUDE� O my son, what theme? � HAMLET� I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers � � Could not, with all their quantity of love, � � Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? KING CLAUDIUS� O, he is mad, Laertes. � QUEEN GERTRUDE� For love of God, forbear him. � HAMLET� Swounds, show me what thou'lt do: �260 � Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? � � Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? � I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? � � To outface me with leaping in her grave? � � Be buried quick with her, and so will I: � � And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw � � Millions of acres on us, till our ground, � Singeing his pate against the burning zone, � � Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, � � I'll rant as well as thou. � QUEEN GERTRUDE� This is mere madness: �270 � And thus awhile the fit will work on him; � Anon, as patient as the female dove, � � When that her golden couplets are disclosed, � � His silence will sit drooping. � HAMLET� Hear you, sir; � � What is the reason that you use me thus? � I loved you ever: but it is no matter; � � Let Hercules himself do what he may, � � The cat will mew and dog will have his day. � � Exit � KING CLAUDIUS� I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. � � Exit HORATIO. � � To LAERTES. � � Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; � We'll put the matter to the present push. � � Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. � � This grave shall have a living monument: � � An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; � � Till then, in patience our proceeding be. � Exeunt �