ARKCODEX
Act V, Scene 1
1A churchyard.
2Enter two Clowns, with spades, etc.
3First ClownIs she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?
4Second ClownI tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.
5First ClownHow can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?
6Second ClownWhy, ’tis found so.
7First ClownIt 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, to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
8Second ClownNay, but hear you, goodman delver—
9First ClownGive 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.
10Second ClownBut is this law?
11First ClownAy, marry, is’t; crowner’s quest law.
12Second ClownWill you ha’ the truth on’t? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o’ Christian burial.
13First ClownWhy, there thou say’st: and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam’s profession.
14Second ClownWas he a gentleman?
15First ClownA’ was the first that ever bore arms.
16Second ClownWhy, he had none.
17First ClownWhat, 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—
18Second ClownGo to.
19First ClownWhat is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
20Second ClownThe gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
21First ClownI 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.
22Second Clown“Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?”
23First ClownAy, tell me that, and unyoke.
24Second ClownMarry, now I can tell.
25First ClownTo’t.
26Second ClownMass, I cannot tell.
27Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.
28First ClownCudgel 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 stoup of liquor. Exit Second 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.
29HamletHas this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?
30HoratioCustom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
31Hamlet’Tis e’en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
32First ClownSings.
But age, with his stealing steps,
Hath claw’d me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me intil the land,
As if I had never been such.
Throws up a skull.
33HamletThat skull 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! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o’er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?
34HoratioIt might, my lord.
35HamletOr of a courtier; which could say “Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?” This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one’s horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?
36HoratioAy, my lord.
37HamletWhy, 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 ’em? mine ache to think on’t.
38First ClownSings.
A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
For and a shrouding sheet:
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
Throws up another skull.
39HamletThere’s another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities 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 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, ha?
40HoratioNot a jot more, my lord.
41HamletIs not parchment made of sheepskins?
42HoratioAy, my lord, and of calf-skins too.
43HamletThey are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave’s this, sirrah?
44First ClownMine, sir. Sings.
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
45HamletI think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in’t.
46First ClownYou lie out on’t, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in’t, and yet it is mine.
47HamletThou dost lie in’t, to be in’t and say it is thine: ’tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
48First Clown’Tis a quick lie, sir; ’twill away again, from me to you.
49HamletWhat man dost thou dig it for?
50First ClownFor no man, sir.
51HamletWhat woman, then?
52First ClownFor none, neither.
53HamletWho is to be buried in’t?
54First ClownOne that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she’s dead.
55HamletHow 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 a 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?
56First ClownOf all the days i’ the year, I came to’t that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
57HamletHow long is that since?
58First ClownCannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that is mad, and sent into England.
59HamletAy, marry, why was he sent into England?
60First ClownWhy, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it’s no great matter there.
61HamletWhy?
62First Clown’Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.
63HamletHow came he mad?
64First ClownVery strangely, they say.
65HamletHow strangely?
66First ClownFaith, e’en with losing his wits.
67HamletUpon what ground?
68First ClownWhy, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
69HamletHow long will a man lie i’ the earth ere he rot?
70First ClownI’ 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.
71HamletWhy he more than another?
72First ClownWhy, 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 skull now; this skull has lain in the earth three and twenty years.
73HamletWhose was it?
74First ClownA whoreson mad fellow’s it was: whose do you think it was?
75HamletNay, I know not.
76First ClownA pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a’ poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick’s skull, the king’s jester.
77HamletThis?
78First ClownE’en that.
79HamletLet me see. Takes the skull. 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. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
80HoratioWhat’s that, my lord?
81HamletDost thou think Alexander looked o’ this fashion i’ the earth?
82HoratioE’en so.
83HamletAnd smelt so? pah! Puts down the skull.
84HoratioE’en so, my lord.
85HamletTo 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?
86Horatio’Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
87HamletNo, 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 into 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?
Imperious Caesar, 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 flaw!
But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king,
88Enter Priests, etc. in procession; the Corpse of Ophelia, Laertes and Mourners following; King, Queen, their trains, etc.
89The 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 awhile, and mark. Retiring with Horatio.
90LaertesWhat ceremony else?
91HamletThat is Laertes,
A very noble youth: mark.
92LaertesWhat ceremony else?
93First PriestHer obsequies have been as far enlarged
As we have warranty: her death was doubtful;
And, but that great command o’ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,
Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her:
Yet here she is allow’d her virgin crants,
Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.
94LaertesMust there no more be done?
95First PriestNo 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.
96LaertesLay her i’ the earth:
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
A ministering angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.
97HamletWhat, the fair Ophelia!
98QueenSweets to the sweet: farewell! Scattering flowers.
I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife;
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck’d, sweet maid,
And not have strew’d thy grave.
99LaertesO, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
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’ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.
100HamletAdvancing. What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane. Leaps into the grave.
101LaertesThe devil take thy soul! Grappling with him.
102HamletThou pray’st not well.
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.
103KingPluck them asunder.
104QueenHamlet, Hamlet!
105AllGentlemen—
106HoratioGood my lord, be quiet. The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.
107HamletWhy, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
108QueenO my son, what theme?
109HamletI loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
110KingO, he is mad, Laertes.
111QueenFor love of God, forbear him.
112Hamlet’Swounds, show me what thou’lt do:
Woo’t weep? woo’t fight? woo’t fast? woo’t tear thyself?
Woo’t drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I’ll do’t. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou’lt mouth,
I’ll rant as well as thou.
113QueenThis is mere madness:
And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will sit drooping.
114HamletHear you, sir;
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew and dog will have his day. Exit.
115KingI pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. Exit Horatio.
To Laertes. Strengthen your patience in our last night’s speech;
We’ll put the matter to the present push.
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.
This grave shall have a living monument:
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. Exeunt.