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i Clown. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence ?
2 Clown. Why, 'tis found so.
i Clown. 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 drown'd herfelf wittingly.
2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman Delver.
i 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 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?
2 Clown. Will you ha' the truth on't? if this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of chriftian burial.
i 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 other christians. Come, my spade ; there is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers ; they hold up Adam's profession.
2 Clown. Was he a gentleman ? 11 Clown. He was the first, that ever bore arms. 2 Clown. Why, he had none.
1 Clown. What, art a heathen? how doit thou understand the Scripture ? the Scripture says, Adam digg'd; could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee; if thou answereft me not to the purpose, confess . thyself
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 outlives a thousand tenants.
i Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the
i Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke
Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.
1 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, say, a gravemaker. The houses, he makes, last 'till dooms-day:. go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a stoup of liquor.
[Exit 2 Clown.. He digs, and fings.
In youth when I did love, did love, (28)
Methought, it was very sweet;
Oh, methought, there was nothing meet.
Hor. Custom hath made it to him a property of eafiness.
Ham. 'Tis e'en fo; the hand of little employment hath the daintier fense:
(28) In Youth, when I did love, &c.] The three Stanza's, fung here by the Grave-digger, are extracted, with a fight Variation, from a little Poem, called, The Aged Lover renounceth Love: written by Henry Howard Earl of Surrey, who fourished in the Reign of King Henry VIII, and who was bebeaded in 1547on a strained Acculation of Treason.
Hath claw'd me in his clutch :
As if I had never been such.
offices : on
Ham. That skull 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 firft murder ! this might be the pate of a politician, which this afs o'er
that would circumvent God, might it not? Hor. It might, my Lord. Ham, Or of a courtier, which could say, “ good
morrow, íweet Lord; how doft thou, good Lord?" this might be my Lord such-a-one, 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 fo: and now my lady Wormos: chapless, and knockt about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's a fine revolution, if we had the trick to see't. Did these bones coft no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ake to think on't.
For, -and a shrouding sheet!
For such a guest is meet. Ham. There's another : why may not that be the fcul 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? hum ! this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with bis statutes, his recognizances, his
fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the
Hor. Not a jot more, my Lord.
Ham. They are sheep and calves that seek out assum rance in that. I will speak to this fellow : Whose Grave's this, Sirrah?
Clown. Mine, Sir
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a Guest is meet.
Ham. I think, it be thine, indeed, for thou lieft in't.
Clown. You lye 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 doit lye in't, to be in't, and say, 'tis thine : 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou ly'ft.
Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, Sir, 'twill away again from me to you.
Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?
Clown. One that was a woman, Sir ; but, rest her foul, 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 fo picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so 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 tot har day that our last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras.
Ham. How long is that since ?
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 sent into England?
Clown. Why, because he was mad ; he shall recover his wits there; or, he do not, it's no great matter there.
Clown. 'Twill not be seen in him; there the men aro as mad as he.
Ham. How came he mad ?
Clown. Why, here, in Denmark. I have been sexton 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 coarses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some eight year, or nine year; a tanner will last
years. Ham. Why he, more than another?
Clown. Why, Sir, his hide is so tann'd 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 has lain in the earth three and twenty years.
Ham. Whose was it ?
Clown. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; whose do you think it was ?
Ham. Nay, I know not.
Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once. This fame scull, Sir, was Yorick's scull, the King's jefter.
Ham. This ?