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That I effentially am nc in madness,

But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know.
For who that's but a Queen, fair, fober, wife,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? Who would do fo?
No, in defpite of fenfe and fecrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclufions, in the basket creep;
And break your own neck down.

Queen. Be thou affur'd; if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou haft faid to me.

Ham. I muft to England, you know that?
Queen. Alack, I forgot; 'tis fo concluded on.

go

Ham. There's letters feal'd: and my two school-fellows, Whom I will truft, as I will adders fang'd, They bear the mandate; they muft fweep my way, And marshal me to knávery. Let it work; For 'tis the fport, to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard; and 't fhall But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis moft fweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet! This man fhall fet me packing. I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room. Mother, good-night.-Indeed, this counsellor Is now moft ftill, moft fecret, and moft grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. Come fir, to draw toward an end with you. Good-night, mother. [Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius.

hard,

No. XXXIV.-H A M LET.

ACT V. SCENE I. A Churchyard.

Enter two Clowns with spades, &c.

I CLOWN.

Is

the to be buried in Chriftian burial, that wilfully feeks her own falvation?

2 Clown..

2 Clown. I tell thee, fhe is; therefore make her grave ftraight. The crowner hath fat on her, and finds it Chriftian burial.

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

2 Clown. Why, 'tis found fo.

1 Clown. It must be je offendendo, it cannot be elfe. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an aft; and an act hath three branches; it is to act, to do, and to perform. Argal, the drown'd herself wittingly. 2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman Delver.

1 Clown. 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 comes to him, and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.

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 Gloren. Why, there thou fayft. 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 gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profeffion.

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 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 answerest me not to the purpose, confefs thyfelf—

2 Clown. Go to.

I Clown. What is he that builds ftronger than either the mafon, the fhipwright, or the carpenter?

2 Clown. The gallows-maker: for that frame outlives a thoufand tenants.

1 Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gal

lows

lows 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 ftronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

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

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

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 question next, fay, a grave-maker: the houfes he makes laft till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a ftoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clowr.

He digs and fings.

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

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

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

Hor. Cuftom hath made it to him a property of eafinefs. Ham. 'Tis e'en fo. The hand of little employment hath the daintier fenfe.

Clown fings.

But age, with his fiealing fteps,
Hath class'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped 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 jowls.it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the firft 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 courtier, which could fay, "Good-morrow,

"fweet

"fweet Lord; how doft thou, good Lord ?" This might be my Lord fuch-a-one's, 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; chaplefs, and knock'd about the mazzard with a fexton'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 pich-ax and a spade, a spade,
For-and a forowding sheet!
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For fuch a gueft is meet.

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 suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the fconce 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 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 breadth 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 calve-skins too.

Ham. They are sheep and calves that feek out affurance in that. I will fpeak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, firrah? 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 lyeft in't. Clown. You lye out on't, Sir, and therefore it is not yours; for my part, I do not lye in't, yet it is mine.

Ham. Thou doft lye in't, to be in't, and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou lieft.

Clown

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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. 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 must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, thefe 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' the 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 sent 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, 'tis no great matter there. Ham. Why?

Clown. Twill not be feen 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?

Clown. Why here, in Denmark. here, man and boy, thirty years.

I have been fexton

Ham. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? Clown. I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die, as we have many pocky corfes now-a-days that will scarce 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?

Glown. Why, Sir, his hide is fo tann'd with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while: and your water

is

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