Laer. I know him well: he is the brooch, indeed, And gem of all the nation. King. He made confession of you; And gave you such a masterly report, That he cried out, 't would be a sight indeed, If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation, If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy, That he could nothing do, Now, out of this, Laer. but wish and beg to play with you. What out of this, my lord? King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? Laer. Why ask you this? King. Not that I think you did not love your father, But that I know love is begun by time; A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it, And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a pleurisy. Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, We should do when we would; for this "would" changes, And hath abatements and delays as many, As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; And then this "should" is like a spendthrift's sigh, To show yourself your father's son in deed, More than in words? Laer. To cut his throat i' the church. King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize; The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together, Laer. King. When in your motion you are hot and dry, (As make your bouts more violent to that end) If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there. But stay! what noise? Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow. - Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. Laer. Drown'd! O, where? Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them : Or like a creature native and indu'd Unto that element: but long it could not be, 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, Adieu, my lord! I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it. King. [Exit. Let's follow, Gertrude. How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I, this will give it start again; Therefore, let's follow. [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; and 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, '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. 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. 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 me not to the purpose, confess thyself 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. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter? 1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. 2 Clo. 1 Clo. Marry, now I can tell, To 't. 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; fetch me a stoop of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown. 1 Clown 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. Ham. 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. Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. VI. 97 |