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And hath abatements and delays as many

As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer;
Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake
To show yourself your father's son in deed
More than in words?

Laertes.

e;

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 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
The Frenchman gave you, bring you, in fine, together,
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.

Laertes.
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 scratch'd withal; I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

Let's further think of this;

King.
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance
'Twere better not assay'd; 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:

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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 prepar'd him
A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,

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If he by chance escape your venom'd 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 drown'd, Laertes. Laertes. Drown'd! O, 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,

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Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,

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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

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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 indu'd

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

Laertes.

Alas! then, she is drown'd?

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

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Laertes. 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.

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[Exit.

Let's follow, Gertrude.

[Exeunt.

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

ACT V.

SCENE I.-A Churchyard.

Enter two Clowns, with spades and mattock.

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, and 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.

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 sayest; 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 gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown. Was he a gentleman ?
First Clown.

Second Clown.
First Clown.

A' was the first that ever bore arms.
Why, he had none.

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
confess thyself-

purpose,

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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 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 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.

Second Clown. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?

First Clown.

Second Clown.

First Clown.

Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
Marry, now I can tell.

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 gravemaker : the houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of liquor. [Exit Second Clown.

First Clown digs, and sings.

In youth, when I did love, did love,

Methought it was very sweet,

To contract, O! the time, for-a my behove,
O! methought there was nothing meet.

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.

But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath claw'd me in his clutch,

And hath shipped me intil the land,

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! This might be

the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-offices, 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? 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.

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.

[Throws up another skull.

Hamlet. There's another; why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his 105 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 110 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 115 no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyance 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 sheep-skins?
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.
grave's this, sir?

First Clown.

Mine, sir,

O a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.

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Whose 125

Hamlet. I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. 130