Imatges de pàgina

And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together,
And wager on 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 chuse
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 couch my point
With this contagion, that if I gall him Nightly
It may be death.

King. Let's further think of this,
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit it to our shape. If this should fail,
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 blaft in proof. Soft- let me fee
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings ;
I ha't

--when in your motion you are hot, And make your bouts more violent to th’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, Our purpose may hold there. How now, sweet Queen ?


Enter Queen.
Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow: your lister's drown'd, Laertes.


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Laer. Drown'd? oh where?

Queen. There is a willow grows allant a brook,
That shews his hoar leaves in the glaslie stream:
There with fantastick garlands did she come,
Of crow-flow'rs, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead mens fingers call them :
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambiring to hang, an envious Niver broke,
When down her weedy trophies and her self
Fell in the weeping brook; her cloaths spread wide,
And mermaid-like, a while they bore her up;
Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native, and indued
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, Ihe 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 Name 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. Follow, Gertrude:
How much had I to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I, this will give it start again,
Therefore let's follow.





Enter two Clowns, with Spades and mattocks.

i Clown. I S she to be buried in christian burial, that willfully seeks her own salvation ?

2 Clown. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her grave straight, the crowner hath fate on her, and finds it christian burial.

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

2 Clown. Why, 'tis found so.

i Clown. It must be se offendendo, it cannot be else: For here lyes the point ; if I drown my self wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three branches. It is to act, to do, and to perform; argal, she drown'd her self witingly.

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

1 Clown. Give me leave; here lyes 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 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 been buried out of christian burial.

1 Clown. Why, there thou say'st. And the more pity that great folk ihould have countenance in this world to


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drown or hang themselves, more than other chriftians, Come, my spade; there is no ancient gentlemen but gat. deners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adan'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 doft thou under stand the scripture ? the scripture says, Adam diggd; could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee ; if thou answerest me not to the purpole, confess

thy self

2 Clown. Go to.

i Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the ship-wright, or the carpenter?

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

i Clown. I like thy wit well in good faith, the gallows does well; but how does it well? ic does well to those that do ill: now thou doft 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.
i Clown. To't.
2 Clown. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horacio at a distance. i Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this question next, fay a grave-maker. The houses he makes, last 'till dooms-day: go, get thee to Yougban, fetch me a stoup of liquor, [Exit 2 Clown.


He digs and sings.
In youth wben I did love, did love,

Methought it was very sweet ;
To contract, ob, the time for, a, my bebove,

Oh met bought there was nothing to meet.' Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that 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 imployment hath the daintier sense.

Clown sings.
But age with bis flealing lieps,

Harb claw'd me in his clutch :
And bath shipped me into 8 'bis' land,

As if I ne'er had been such.
Ham. That scull 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 murther! this
might be the pate of a politician which this ass o’er-offices;
one that could circumvent God, might it not?

Hor. It might, my Lord.

Ham. Or of a courcier, which could say, Good-morrow, sweet Lord; bow dost thou, good Lord ? this might be my Lord such a one's, that prais'd my Lord such a one's horse, when he meant to beg it ; might it not?

Hor. Ay, my Lord.

Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's, chapless, and knockt about the mazzard with a fexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, if we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em ? mine ake to think on't.

Clown sings.
A pick-axe and a spade, a spade,

For, and a shrowding Sheet!
0, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.

Ham, : 7 nothing meet

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