patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think, When sorrows come, they come not single spies, [greenly, For good Polonius's death; and we have done but King. Attend. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door: What is the matter? Gent. Save yourself, my lord; Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste, [without. Laer. I pray you, give me leave. [door. Dan. We will, we will. [they retire without the Laer. I thank you :-keep the door.-O thou Give me my father. [vile king, Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. [me bastard; Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother. King. What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?— Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person; There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That reason can but peep to what it would, Laer. Where is my father? Queen. But not by him. [with: King. Who shall stay you? Laer. My will, not all the world's : And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little. King. Will you know them then? [my arms; King. Why, now you speak Danes. [within] Let her come in. Laer. How now! what noise is that? Enter Ophelia, fantastically dressed with straws and flowers. O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt, Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier ; Oph. You must sing, 'down a-down, an you call him a-down-a.' O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. Laer. This nothing's more than matter. Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. Lacr. A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted. Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines: -there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays:-you may | And do't the speedier, that you may direct me wear your rue with a difference. To him from whom you brought them. There's a daisy -I would give you some violets; but they withered For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. [sings. And will he not come again? Go to thy death-bed, He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: Muse He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan; ? [sings. And of all Christian souls! I pray God. God be They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, Be you content to lend your patience to us, Laer. Let this be so; His means of death, his obscure funeral,- Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to carth, shall; King. So you And, where the le offence is, let the great axe fall. ay you, gov with me. I pray [exeunt. SCENE VI. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME. Enter Horatio, and a Servant. SCENE VII. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME. Enter King and Laertes. King. Now must your conscience my acquittance And you must put me in your heart for friend ;[seal, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he, which hath your noble father slain, Pursu'd my life. Laer. It well appears.. -But tell me, Why you proceeded not against these feats, As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else, King. O, for two special reasons ; Why to a public count I might not go, Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; That we are made of stuff so flat and dull, Hor. What are they, that would speak with me? I loved your father, and we love ourself; They say, they have letters for you. [exit Servant. Hor. Let them come in.- 1 Sail. God bless you, sir. 1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador, that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. Hor. (reads) Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the king; they have Letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase: finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour; and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me, like thieves of mercy; but they knew what they did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me with as much haste as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear, will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring you where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England; of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET. Come, I will give you way for these your letters; Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: Kiny. From Hamlet! who brought them? King. Laertes, you shall hear them :— Leave us. [exit Messenger. (reads) High and mighty, you shall know, I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange HAMLET. return. King. If it be so, Laertes, As how should it be so?-how otherwise?— Will you be rul'd by me? Laer. Ay, my lord; So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace. King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,-As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it,-I will work him To an exploit, now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall: And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe; But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And call it, accident. Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd; The rather, if you could devise it so, King. It falls right. You have been talk'd or since your travel much, Laer. What part is that, my lord? Come short of what he did. Laer. A Norman, was't? King. A Norman. Laer. Upon my life, Lamord. King. The very same. A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it [rize Laer. To cut his throat i'the church. King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctua Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes. Will you do this, keep close within your chamber Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame [gether The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, toAnd wager o'er 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 the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. King. Let's further think of this; Laer. I know him well; he is the brooch, indeed, If this should blast in proof. Soft;-let me see :And gem of all the nation. King. He made confession of you; And gave you such a masterly report, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, Laer. What out of this, my lord? King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? Laer. Why ask you this? King. Not that I think, you did not love your But that I know, love is begun by time; [father; And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,-- When in your motion you are hot and dry, How now, sweet queen? Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow: --your sister's drown'd, Laertes. Laer. Drown'd! O, where? [brook, Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call thein: 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 broek. Her clothes spread wide. And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up: Unto that element: but long it could not be, Laer. Alas then, she is drown'd? Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, SCENE 1. 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 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, 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 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, sho 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 even 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. 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 ine 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? 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. Mass, I cannot tell. Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance. 1 Clo. 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, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. [exit 2 Clown. 1 Clown digs, and sings. To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove, Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business? he sings at grave-making. Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. 1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps, Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could Hor. It might, my lord. Ham. Or of a courtier; which would 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. chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a 1 Clo. A pickaxe, and a spade, a spade, [sings. [throws up a scuïl 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 D knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, nis 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. Ay, my lord, and of calves-skins too. Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. -Whose grave's this, sirrah? 1 Clo. Mine, sir. O, a pit of clay for to be made [sings. Ham. I think it be thine, indeed for thou liest in't. 1 Clo. 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: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore, thou liest. 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 neither. 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 is grown so picked, that toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave-maker? 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? 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 to England. Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits t there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great Ham. Why? [matter there. 1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he. Ham. How came he mad? 1 Clo. Very strangely, they say. Ham. How strangely? 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. [rot? Ham How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he 1 Clo. '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. 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. 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 in 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.-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o'this 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, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! But soft! but soft! aside.-Here comes the king, Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the corpse of Ophelia; Laertes and mourners following; King, Queen, 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 Foredo its own life. 'Twas of some estate Couch we a while and mark. [retiring with Horatio. |