Is the to be buried in chri

S fhe to be buried in chriftian burial, that wilfully

2 Clown. I tell thee, fhe is, therefore make her Grave ftraight; the crowner hath fat on her, and finds it christian burial.

1 Clown. How can that be, unless fhe drowned herself in her own defence?

Clown. Why, tis found fo.

1 Clown. It must be fe offendendo, it cannot be else. For here lies the Point; if I drown myfelf wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three branches; It is to act, to do, and to perform; argal, fhe drown'd herself wittingly.

2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman Delver.

1 Clown. Give me leave; here lies the water, good: here ftands 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, fhortens not his own life.

2 Clown. But is this law?

1 Clown. Ay, marry is't, crowner's queft-law.

2 Clown. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, fhe fhould have been buried out of chriftian burial.

1 Clown. Why, there thou fay'ft. And the more pity, that great folk fhould have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even chriftian. Come, my fpade; there is no ancient gentelmen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profeffion.

2 Clown

2 Clown. Was he a gentleman;

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

1 Clown. What, art a heathen? how doft thou underftand the Scripture? the Scripture fays, Adam digg'd; could he dig without arms? I'll put another queftion to thee; if thou answercft me not to the purpose, confefs thy self

2 Clown. Go to.

1 Clown. What is he that builds flronger than either the mason, the ship-wright, or the carpenter? 2 Clown. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives 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 doft ill, to fay the gallows is built fronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

2 Clown. Who builds ftronger than a mason, a fhipwright, or a carpenter?

1 Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

I

2 Clown. Marry, now I can tell.

1 Clown. To't.

2 Clown. Mafs, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.

1 Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull afs will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are afk'd this queftion next, fay a grave-maker. The houses, he makes, last 'till doomsday: go, get thee to Youghan, and fetch me a ftoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown.

He digs, and fings,

In youth when I did love, did love,
Methought, it was very fweet;

To contract, oh, the time for, a, my behove,
Oh, methought, there was nothing fo meet.

Ham.

Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he fings at Grave-making?

Hor. Custom hath made it to him a property of eafinefs.

Ham. 'Tis e'en fo; the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

Clown fings.

But age, with his fealing steps,
Hath claw'd me in his clutch:
And hath fhipped me into the land,
As if I had never been fuch.

Ham. That fcull had a tongue in it, and could fing once; how the knave jowles 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 afs o'er-offices; one that would circumvent God, might it not?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courter, which could fay, goodmorrow, fweet lord; how doft thou, good lord? this might be my lord fuch a one, that prais'd my lord fuch a one's horfe, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Why, e'en fo: and now my lady Worm's chapless, and knockt about the mazzard with a sexton's fpade. Here's a fine revolution, if we had the trick to fee't. Did thefe bones coft no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ake to think on't.

Clown fings.

A pick-axe and a fpade, a Spade
For, -and a fhrouding sheet !
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For fuch a guest is meet.

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Ham.

Ham. There's another: why may not that be the fcull of a lawyer? where be his quiddits now? his quillets? his cafes ? his tenures, and his tricks? why does he fuffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty fhovel, 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 ftatutes, 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 breath of a pair of indentures? the very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and muft the inheritor 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-fkins too.

Ham. They are sheep and calves that feek out affurance in that. I will fpeak to this fellow: Whose Grave's this, Sirrah?

Clown. Mine, Sir

O, a pit of clay for to be made

For fuch a Guest is meet.

Ham. I think, it be thine, indeed, for thou lieft 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 doft lie in't, to be in't and fay, 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, and not for the quick, therefore thou ly'ft.

Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, Sir, 'twill away again

from me to you.

Ham. What man doft thou dig it for?

Clown. For no man, Sir.

Ham. What woman then?
Clown. For none neither.

Ham

Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

Clown. One, that was a woman, Sir; but reft her foul, fhe's dead.

Ham. How abfolute the knave is? we muft fpeak 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 fo picked, that the toe of the peafant comes fo near the heel of our courtier, he galls his kibe. How long haft thou been a grave-maker? Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our laft King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras. Ham. How long is that fince?

Clown. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that it was that very day that young Hamlet was born, he that was mad, and fent into England.

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he fent into England? Clown. Why, because he was mad; he fhall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

Ham. Why?

Clown. 'Twill not be seen in him; there the men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?

Clown. Very strangely, they fay.

Ham. How ftrangely?

Clown. Faith, e'en with lofing his wits.

Ham. Upon what ground?

Ham. Why, here, in Denmark. I have been fexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

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

Clown. I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die, (as we have many pocky coarfes now-a-days, that will fcarce hold the laying in) he will last you fome eight year, or nine year; a tanner will last you nine years. Ham. Why he, more than another?

Clown. Why, Sir, his hide is fo tann'd with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while. And

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