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 thee 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;
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt.

Enter KING and LAERTES.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance
seal,

And you must put me in your heart for friend;
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,
So crimeful and so capital in nature,
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were stirr'd up.

King.
O, for two special reasons;
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
mother,

Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,
(My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,)
She is so conjunctive to my life and soul,'
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a publick count I might not go,
Is the great love the general gender bear him :
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
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,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desperate terms;
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections :· But my revenge will come.
King. Break not your sleeps for that: you must
not think,

Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the queen. King. From Hamlet! Who brought them? Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say: I saw them not; They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them Of him that 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 ásking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet.

My lord, I will be rul'd: The rather, if you could devise it so, That I might be the organ. 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 him, As did that one; and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege.

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 wond'rous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-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. Upon my life, Lamord. 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,
And for your rapier most especial,

That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match you: the scrimers of their 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 you.
Now, out of this,
Laer.
What, out of this, my lad?
King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?

And that I see, in passages of proof,

Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love

A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a plurisy,

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 sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o'the ulcer:
Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,
To show yourself indeed your father's son
More than in words?

Laer.
To cut his throat i'the church.
King. No place, indeed, should murder sanc-
tuarize;

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 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.
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.

King. Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means, May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,

Let's further think of this;

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.

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 preferr'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
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. Laer. Drown'd! O, where?

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
Therewith fantastick 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 them ;
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 brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, a while 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,

Laer.

Alas then, she is 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,
The woman will be out. - 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

SCENE I.-A Church-Yara.
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 berself 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.

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 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 —

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

1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. 2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell.

1 Clo. To't.

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.
In youth, when I did love, did love,
Methought, it was very sweet,

To contract, 0, 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.

Ham. Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps, Hath claw'd me in his clutch,

And hath shipped me into the land,

As if I had never been such.
[Throws up a scull.

Ham. That scull 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-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 praised my lord

it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

Ham. 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 them? mine ache to think on't.

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? Humph! 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 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? ba? Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins? Hor. Aye, 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

For such a guest is meet.

[Singa

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 the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, be galls his kibe. — How long hast thou been a grave maker?

1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came so't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fa tinbras.

Ham. How long's that since?

1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool car tull that: It was that very day that young Hamlet born: he that is mad, and sent into England

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into Engl

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

Ham. Why?

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. Ham. Upon what ground?

1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man, and boy, thirty years. •

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

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. Whose was it?

Ham. This?

1 Clo. E'en that.

[Takes the scull.

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 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. Pr'y thee, 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, 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 hither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead t: Asthus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of arth we make loam: And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a eer-barrel?

Imperious Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:

A very noble youth: Mark.

Lacr. What ceremony else?

1 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 unsanctified have lodg'd Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her, Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial.

Laer. Must there no more be done? 1 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.

Laer.

Lay her i'the earth ; -
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring! - I tell thec, churlish priest,
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.

Ham.
What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!

[Scattering flowers.

I hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife;

I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave.

Laer.
O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Depriv'd thee of! - Hold off the earth a while,
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'er-top old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.

Ham. [Advancing.] What is he, whose grief
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer.

[Leaps into the grave. The devil take thy soul! [Grappling with him.

Ham. Thou pray st not well.

I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand.
King, Pluck them asunder.
Queen.

All. Gentlemen,

Hor.

Hamlet, Hamlet!

Good my lord, be quiet. [The Attendants part them, and they come out

of the grave.