o'er offices; one that would circumvent God, might it not? Hor. It might, my Lord. Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say, “good"morrow, 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; 3 and now my lady Worm's; chaplefs, and knockt about the mazzard with a fexton's fpade. Here's a fine revolution, if we had the trick to fee't. Did these bones coft no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em ? mine ake to think on't. 4 Clown fings. A pick-axe and a spade, a spade, 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 circumvent. better with the fentence: It is a ftrong exaggeration to remark, that an Afs can over-reach him who would once have tried to I believe both the words were Shakespeare's. An authour in revifing his work, when his original ideas have faded from his mind, and new obfervations have produced new fentiments, eafily introduces images which have been more newly impreffed upon him, without obferving their want of congruity to the general texture of his original defign. 3 and now my lady Worm's;] The fcull that was my lord fuch a one's, is now my lady Worm's. 4 play at loggats] A play, in which pins are fet up to be beaten down with a bowl. fuffer fuffer this rude knave now to knock him about the fconce 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 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? Hor. Not a jot more, my Lord. Ham. Is not parchment made of fheep skins? Ham. They are sheep and calves that seek 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 Gueft 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 doft lye in't, to be in't, and fay, 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou ly'st. Clown. 'Tis a quick lye, 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. Clown. One, that was a woman, Sir; but, reft her foul, fhe's dead. Ham. How obfolute the knave is? We must speak s 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 feen in him; there the men are as mad as he. Ham. How came he mad? Clown. Very ftrangely, they say. Ham. How ftrangely? Clown. 'Faith, e'en with lofing his wits. Ham. Upon what ground? Clown. Why, here, in Denmark. I have been fexton here, man and boy, thirty years. 3 by the card,] The card is the paper on which the different points of the compafs were defcribed. To do any thing by the card, is, to do it with nice obfervation. 6 the age is grown fo picked,] So fmart, lo fharp; fays Hanmer, very properly; but there was, I think, about that time, a picked fhoe, that is, afboe, with a long pointed toe, in fashion, to which the allufion feems likewife to be made. Every man now is mart; and every man now is a man of fashion. Ham, 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 laft 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 your water is a fore decayer of your whorefon dead body. Here's a fcull now has lain in the earth three and twenty years. Ham. Whofe was it? Clown. A whorefon mad fellow's it was. Whofe do you think it was? Ham. Nay, I know not, Clown. A peftilence on him for a mad rogue! he pour'd a flaggon of Rhenifh on my head once. This fame fcull, Sir, was Yorick's fcull, the King's jefter. Ham. This? Clown. E'en that. Ham. Alas, poor Forick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jeft; of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thoufand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kifs'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your fongs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to fet the table in a roar? not one now, 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 the must come ? make her laugh at that.-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my Lord? toi Ham. Doft thou think, Alexander look'd o' this fafhion i' th' earth? Hor. Hor. E'en fo. Ham. And smelt fo, puh? [Smelling to the Scull. Ham. To what bafe ufes we may return, Horatio! why may not imagination trace the noble duft of Alexander, 'till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to confider too curiously, to confider fo. Ham. No, faith, not a jot: But to follow him thither with modefty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to duft; the duft is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not ftop a beer-barrel? Imperial Cæfar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Enter King, Queen, Laertes, and a coffin, with Lords, and Priests, attendant. The Queen, the Courtiers. What is that they follow, And with fuch maimed rites? This doth betoken, The coarse, they follow, did with defperate hand Foredo its own life. It was 9 fome eftate. Couch we a while, and mark. ୨ Laer. What ceremony else? Ham. That is Laertes, a most noble youth. Mark- Prieft. Her obfequies have been fo far enlarg'd 7winter's flaw.] Winter's blaft. 8 -maimed rites ?- Imperfect obfequies. 9 -fome eftate.] Some perfon of high rank. |