A Churchyard.
 Enter TWO CLOWNS with spades and mattocks.

1st Clown	Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks 
	her own salvation?

2nd Clown	I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight. The 
	crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.

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

2nd Clown	Why, 'tis found so.

1st 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 drowned herself wittingly.

2nd Clown	Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver.

1st 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.

2nd Clown	But is this law?

1st Clown	Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

2nd Clown	Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a 
	gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian 
	burial.

1st Clown	Why, there thou sayst, and the more pity that great folk 
	should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang 
	themselves more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. 
	There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and 
	gravemakers: they hold up Adam's profession.

2nd Clown	Was he a gentleman?

1st Clown	A' was the first that ever bore arms.

2nd Clown	Why, he had none.

1st Clown	What, 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-

2nd Clown	Go to.

1st Clown	What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the 
	shipwright, or the carpenter?

2nd Clown	The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand 
	tenants.

1st Clown	I 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.

2nd Clown	Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a 
	carpenter?

1st Clown	Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

2nd Clown	Marry, now I can tell.

1st Clown	To't.

2nd Clown	Mass, I cannot tell.

                    Enter HAMLET and HORATIO afar off.

1st Clown	Cudgel 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 gravemaker'. The houses that he makes 
	lasts till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a 
	stoup of liquor.
												[Exit 2nd CLOWN.

1st Clown	[Digging, and singing.]

			In youth, when I did love, did love,
		      		Methought it was very sweet
			To contract-O the time for-a my behove,
				O methought there-a was nothing-a meet.

Hamlet	Has this fellow no feeling of his business that a' sings at 
	grave-making.

Horatio	Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

Hamlet	'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the 
	daintier sense.

1st Clown	[Sings.]	But age with his stealing steps
		      		Hath clawed me in his clutch,
		      	And hath shipped me intil the land,
		      		As if I had never been such.
												[Throws up a skull.

Hamlet	That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the 
	knave jowls it to th' ground, as if it were Cain's jawbone, 
	that did the first murder. This might be the pate of a 
	politician which this ass now o'eroffices; one that would 
	circumvent God, might it not?

Horatio	It might, my lord.

Hamlet	Or 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 a' went to beg 
	it, might it not?

Horatio	Ay, my lord.

Hamlet	Why, e'en so; and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knocked 
	about the mazard 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 loggets with 'em? 
	Mine ache to think on't.

1st Clown	[Sings.]	A pickaxe 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.

Hamlet	There'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 scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor 
	himself have no more, ha?

Horatio	Not a jot more, my lord.

Hamlet	Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

Horatio	Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

Hamlet	They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. 
	I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?

1st Clown	Mine, sir.
	[Sings.]	O, a pit of clay for to be made
				For such a guest is meet.

Hamlet	I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.

1st Clown	You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. For my 
	part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.

Hamlet	Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis 
	for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

1st Clown	'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you.

Hamlet	What man dost thou dig it for?

1st Clown	For no man, sir.

Hamlet	What woman, then?

1st Clown	For none neither.

Hamlet	Who is to be buried in't?

1st Clown	One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

Hamlet	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 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 gravemaker?

1st Clown	Of all the days i'th' year I came to't that day that our 
	last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras.

Hamlet	How long is that since?

1st Clown	Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was that 
	very day that young Hamlet was born - he that is mad and 
	sent into England.

Hamlet	Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

1st Clown	Why, because he was mad. A' shall recover his wits there; 
	or, if a' do not, 'tis no great matter there.

Hamlet	Why?

1st Clown	'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad 
	as he.

Hamlet	How came he mad?

1st Clown	Very strangely, they say.

Hamlet	How 'strangely'?

1st Clown	Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

Hamlet	Upon what ground?

1st Clown	Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy, 
	thirty years.

Hamlet	How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot?

1st Clown	Faith, if a' be not rotten before a' die - as we have many 
	pocky corpses nowadays that will scarce hold the laying in 
	- a' will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner 
	will last you nine year.

Hamlet	Why he more than another?

1st Clown	Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade that a' will 
	keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore 
	decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now hath 
	lain you i'th' earth three-and-twenty years.

Hamlet	Whose was it?

1st Clown	A whoreson mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was?

Hamlet	Nay, I know not.

1st Clown	A 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.

Hamlet	This?

1st Clown	E'en that.

Hamlet	Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick. I knew 
	him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent 
	fancy. He hath bore 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.

Horatio	What's that, my lord?

Hamlet	Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'th' 
	earth?

Horatio	E'en so.

Hamlet	And smelt so? Pah!
												[Puts down the skull.
Horatio	E'en so, my lord.

Hamlet	To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not 
	imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till a' find 
	it stopping a bung-hole?

Horatio	'Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.

Hamlet	No, 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 
	to 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 turned 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 t' expel the winter's flaw!

              Enter a PRIEST, the KING, the QUEEN, LAERTES,
                   and a coffin, with LORDS attending.

	But soft, but soft awhile! Here comes the king,
	The queen, the courtiers. Who is that they follow?
	And with such maimd rites? This doth betoken
	The corpse they follow did with desp'rate hand
	Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.
	Couch we awhile, and mark.
								 [HAMLET and HORATIO stand aside.
Laertes	What ceremony else?

Hamlet	That is Laertes, a very noble youth. Mark.

Laertes	What ceremony else?

Priest	Her 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 allowed her virgin crants,
	Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
	Of bell and burial.

Laertes	Must there no more be done?

Priest										No more be done.
	We should profane the service of the dead
	To sing sage requiem and such rest to her
	As to peace-parted souls.

Laertes									Lay her i'th' earth,
	And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
	May violets spring. I tell thee, churlish priest,
	A minist'ring angel shall my sister be
	When thou liest howling.

Hamlet				[Aside.]		What, the fair Ophelia!

Queen	[Scattering flowers.] Sweets to the sweet; farewell.
	I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife.
	I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid,
	And not have strewed thy grave.

Laertes										O, treble woe
	Fall ten times treble on that cursd head
	Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
	Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth a while,
	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
	T' o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
	Of blue Olympus.

Hamlet	[Advancing.]			What is he whose grief
	Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow
	Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
	Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
	Hamlet the Dane.
												[Leaps into the grave.

Laertes					The devil take thy soul!
												[Grappling with HAMLET.
Hamlet	Thou pray'st not well.
	I prithee take thy fingers from my throat,
	For though I am not splenative and rash,
	Yet have I in me something dangerous,
	Which let thy wiseness fear. Hold off thy hand.

King	Pluck them asunder.

Queen	Hamlet, Hamlet!

Lords	Gentlemen! 

Horatio	Good my lord, be quiet.
												[The LORDS part them,
								  and they come out of the grave.

Hamlet	Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
	Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

Queen	O my son, what theme?

Hamlet	I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers
	Could not, with all their quantity of love,
	Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

King	O, he is mad, Laertes

Queen	For love of God, forbear him.

Hamlet	'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.

Queen										This is mere madness,
	And thus a while 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.

Hamlet										Hear 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.
King	I pray thee, 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.
