Work, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,

5 And not where I had aim'd them.

[Exit Mess. 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 return. HAMLET. What should this mean? Are all the rest come 35 Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? [back? Luer. Know you the hand?

King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked,-
And, in a postscript here, he says, alone:
Can you advise me?

[come; Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him It warms the very sickness in my heart,

That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.

King. If it be so, Laertes,

45 As how should it be so?-how otherwise?-
Will you be rul'd by me?

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:
55 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,

60 That I might be the organ.

The bore is the calibre of a gun, or the capacity of the barrel.-The matter (says Hamlet) would carry heavier words.

i. e. The common race of the people.

2U 4

King. It falls right.

You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from hini,
As did that one; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege 1.

Laer. What part is that, my lord?

King. A very ribband in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Importing health, and graveness.Two months
since,

Here was a gentleman of Normandy,

I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in 't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demy-natur'd
With the brave beast; so far he topp'd my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did,

Laer. A Norman, was 't?
King. A Norman.

Laer. Upon my life, Lamond.
King. The very same.

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, For art and exercise in your defence 2, And for your rapier most especial,

That he cried out, "Twould be a sight indeed,

If one could match you: the scrimers of their 35 Under the moon, can save the thing from death,

nation,

He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
Now out of this,-

Laer. 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;

6

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

King. Let's further think of this;

40 Weigh,what convenience, both of time and means,
May fit us to our shape 10: If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad per-

formance,

Twere better not assay'd; therefore, this project
45 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:

When in your motion you are hot and dry,
50 (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,
if he by chance escape your venom'd tuck,
2 That is, in the science of defence.

1 i. c. of the lowest rank.-Siege, for seat, place; Fr. The fencers. Dr. Johnson says, this is obscure; and adds, "The meaning may be, Love is not innate in us, and co-essential to our nature, but begins at a certain time from sonie external cause, and, being always subject to the operations of time, suffers change and diminution." ❝ i, e. in transactions of daily experience. i. e. e. a sigh that makes an unnecessary waste of the vital flame. It is a notion very prevalent, that sighs impair the strength, and wear out the animal powers. ' i. e. not vigilant or cautious. i. e. not blunted as foils are. Dr. Johnson observes, that practice is often by Shakspeare, and other writers, taken for an insidious stratagem, or privy treason; a sense not incongruous to this passage, where yet he rather believes, that nothing more is meant than a thrust for exercise. 10 i. e. may enable us to assume proper characters, and to act our part. 11 This metaphor is taken from the trying or proving fire-arms or cannon, which often blast or burst in the proof.

Our

Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise? Or like a creature native and indu'd

Enter Queen.

How now, sweet queen?

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow:-Your sister's drown'd, LaLaer. Drown'd! O, where?

[ertes.

Queen. There is awillow grows ascaunt' the brook,
That shews 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 ourcold maidsdo dead-men's fingers call them:
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spreadwide;
And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up:
Which time, she chaunted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,

5

10

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.

Laer. Alas, then, is she drown'd?

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou,poorOphelia, 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 drowns it.

15 King. 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.

[Exit.

[Exeunt,

SCENE I.

A Church-yard.

ACT V.

Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c. 1 Clown. Is she to be bury'd in christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation? 2 Clown. I tell thee, she is; therefore, make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it christian burial.

1 Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own defence?

2 Clown. Why, 'tis found so.

more than their even christian. Come; my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up 30 Adam's profession.

2 Clown. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clown. He was the first that ever bore arms. 2 Clown. Why, he had none.

1 Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou 35 understand the Scripture?—The Scripture says, Adam digg'd; Could he dig without arms? I'ú put another question to thee; if thou answer'st me not to the purpose, confess thyself

1 Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself 40 wittingly, it argues an act: and an act bath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform:Argal, she drown'd herself wittingly.

2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 1 Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; 45 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 50 death, shortens not his own life.

2 Clown. But is this law?

1 Clown. Ay, marry is 't; crowner's-quest law. 2 Clown. Will you ha' the truth on 't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have 55 been bury'd out of christian burial.

1 Clown. Why, there thou say'st: And the more pity, that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves,

2 Clown. Go to.

1 Clown. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpen

ter?

2 Clown. The gallows-maker: for that frame out-lives a thousand tenants.

1 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.

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

i Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke'.
2 Clown. Marry, now I can tell.
1 Clown. To't.

2 Clown. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.

1 Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beat

1i. e. aside, sideways. 2 i. e. make her grave immediately. 3 Ridicule on scholastic divisions without distinction; and of distinctions without difference. 4 This is an old English expression for fellow-christians. 'i.e. When you have done that, I'll trouble you no more with these riddles.

The phrase is taken from husbandry.

ing;

ing; and, when you are ask'd this question next,)
say, a grave-maker; the houses that he makes,
last 'till doomsday. Go, get thee to Youghan, and
fetch me a stoop of liquor.
[Exit 2 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.

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.

5

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 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 10 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

Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employ-15

ment hath the daintier sense.

Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, 25 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-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say, 'Goodmorrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one, that prais'd my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

30

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?

6

Clown. Mine, sir.

O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.

Ham. I think it be thine indeed; for thou ly'st in 't.

Clown. 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; 35 therefore thou ly'st,

Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady worm's'; chapless, and knock'd 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 40 the breeding, but to play at loggats 3 with them? mine ache to think on 't.

Clown. 'Tis a quick lye, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?
Clown. For no man, sir.

Ham, What woman, then?

Clown. For none neither.

Ham. Who is to be buried in 't?

Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

45 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

3 Dr.

The three stanzas, sung here by the grave-digger, are extracted, with a slight variation, from a little poem, called The aged Lover renounceth Love, written by Henry Howard, earl of Surrey, who flourished in the reign of King Henry VIII. and who was beheaded in 1547, on a strained accusation of treason. The entire song is published by Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Antient English Poetry. 2i. e. The scull that was my lord Such-a-one's, is now my lady Worm's. Johnson says, this is a play, in which pins are set up to be beaten down with a bowl. We have been informed, however, that the reverse is true; that the bowl is the mark, and the pins are pitched at it; and that the game is well known in the neighbourhood of Norwich.- -Mr. Steevens observes, that "this is a game played in several parts of England even at this time.-A stake is fixed into the ground; those who play, throw loggats at it; and he that is nearest the stake, wins :-I have seen it played in different counties at their sheep-shearing feasts, where the winner was entitled to a black fleece, which he afterwards presented to the farmer's maid to spin for the purpose of making a petticoat, and on condition that she knelt down on the fleece to be kissed by all the rustics present." i. e. the head. A quibble is intended.-Deeds, which are usually written on parchment, are called the common assurances of the kingdom. The card is the paper on which the different points of the compass were described. To do any thing by the card, is, to do it with nice observation.

4 i. e. subtilties.

taken

taken note of it; the age is grown so picked', that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave-maker?

Clown. Of all the days i' the year, I came to 't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

Ham. How long is that since ?

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 5 an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Clown. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was that very day that young Hamlet 10 was born; he that is mad, and sent into England. Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

Clown. Why, because he was mad: He shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no 15 great matter there.

Ham. Why?

Clown. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there

the men are as mad as he.

Clown. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Ham. Upon what ground?

20

Clown. Why, here in Denmark: I have been 25 sexton here, man, and boy, thirty years.

Ham. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

Clown. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, (as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that 30 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?

Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with 35 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 has lain you i' the earth three-and-twenty years.

Ham. Whose was it?

Clown. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose do you think it was?

Ham. Nay, I know not.

40

Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once. 45 This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester.

Ham. This ?

Clown. E'en that.

Hor. What's that, my lord?

Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' the earth?

Hor. E'en so.

Ham, And smelt so? pah!

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 bunghole?

Hor. It were 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?

Imperial Cæsar, 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's flaw2!
But soft! but soft! aside:-Here comes the king;
Enter King, Queen, Laertes, the corpse of Ophelia,

with Lords and Priests attending.

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 a while, and mark.
Laer. What ceremony else?
Ham. That is Laertes,
A very noble youth: Mark.

Laer. What ceremony else?

Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctify'd have lodg'd
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, [her:
Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants",
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial'.

Laer. Must there no more be done?
Priest. No more be done;

Ham. Alas, poor Yorick!-I knew him, Ho-50 ratio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorr'd in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, We should profane the service of the dead, that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where 55 To sing a requiem3, and such rest to her be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs?

blast.

As to peace-parted souls.

1 So smart, so sharp, says Hanmer, very properly; but there was, Dr. Johnson thinks, about that time, a picked shoe, that is, a shoe with a long pointed toe, in fashion, to which the allusion seems likewise to be made. Every man now is smart; and every man now is a man of fashion. 2 Winter's i. e. imperfect obsequies. To fordo, is to undo, to destroy. i. e. some person of high rank. Crants is the German word for garlands, and it was probably retained by us from the Saxons. To carry garlands before the bier of a maiden, and to hang them over her grave, is still the practice in rural parishes. Burial, here, signifies interment in consecrated ground. * A Requiem is a mass performed in Popish churches for the rest of the soul of a person deceased.

6

7

Laer.