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.
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?
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.
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.
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?
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.
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 rims 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?
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, &c. in procession; 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.
LAERTES What ceremony else?
First Priest Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;
And, but that great command o’ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
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.
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;
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!
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:
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:
And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,