William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (325 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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HAMLET That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. How the knave jowls it to th’ ground as if ‘twere Cain’s jawbone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician which this ass o’er-offices, 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 meant 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 loggats with ’em? Mine ache to think on’t.
FIRST 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.
 

He throws up another skull

 
HAMLET There’s another. Why might not that be the skull 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? H‘m! 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 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 that seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. (
To the First Clown
) Whose grave’s this, sirrah?
FIRST 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.
FIRST CLOWN You 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.
HAMLET Thou dost lie in‘t, to be in’t and say ’tis thine. ’Tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
FIRST CLOWN ‘Tis a quick lie, sir, ’twill away again from me to you.
HAMLET What man dost thou dig it for?
FIRST CLOWN For no man, sir.
HAMLET What woman, then?
FIRST CLOWN For none, neither.
HAMLET Who is to be buried in’t?
FIRST 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. (
To the First Clown
) How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
FIRST 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?
FIRST CLOWN Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born—he that was mad and sent into England.
HAMLET Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?
FIRST CLOWN Why, because a was mad. A shall recover his wits there; or if a do not, ’tis no great matter there.
HAMLET Why?
FIRST CLOWN ’Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.
HAMLET How came he mad?
FIRST CLOWN Very strangely, they say.
HAMLET How strangely?
FIRST CLOWN Faith, e’en with losing his wits.
HAMLET Upon what ground?
FIRST 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?
FIRST CLOWN I’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?
FIRST 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. This skull has lain in the earth three-and-twenty years.
HAMLET Whose was it?
FIRST CLOWN A whoreson mad fellow’s it was. Whose do you think it was?
HAMLET Nay, I know not.
FIRST 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?
FIRST CLOWN E’en that.
HAMLET Let me see.
He 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 my imagination 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 chop-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!

He throws the skull down

 
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 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?
Imperial 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!
But soft, but soft; aside.
Hamlet and Horatio stand aside. Enter King
Claudius, Queen Gertrude, Laertes, and a coffin,
with a Priest and lords attendant
Here comes the King,
 
The Queen, the courtiers—who is that they follow,
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
The corpse they follow did with desp‘rate hand
Fordo it own life. ’Twas of some estate.
Couch we a while, and mark.
LAERTES What ceremony else?
HAMLET (
aside to Horatio
)
That is Laertes, a very noble youth. Mark.
LAERTES What ceremony else?
PRIEST
Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
As we have warrantise. 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 rites,
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 GERTRUDE (
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 t’have strewed thy grave.
LAERTES
O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed 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.
He 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.
HAMLET (coming forward) 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.

Hamlet leaps in after Laertes

 
LAERTES The devil take thy soul.
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 something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear. Away thy hand.
KING CLAUDIUS (
to Lords
)
Pluck them asunder.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Hamlet, Hamlet!
ALL ⌈THE LORDS⌉
Gentlemen!
HORATIO (
to Hamlet
) Good my lord, be quiet.
HAMLET
Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
QUEEN GERTRUDE 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 CLAUDIUS O, he is mad, Laertes.
QUEEN GERTRUDE (to Laertes) For love of God, forbear him.
HAMLET (
to Laertes
) ‘Swounds, show me what thou’lt do.
Woot weep, woot fight, woot fast, woot tear thyself,
Woot 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.
KING CLAUDIUS ⌈
to Laertes
⌉ 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 (
to Laertes
)
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 CLAUDIUS
I 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
5.2
Enter Prince Hamlet and Horatio
 
HAMLET
So much for this, sir. Now, let me see, the other.
You do remember all the circumstance?
HORATIO Remember it, my lord!
HAMLET
Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay
Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly—
And praised be rashness for it: let us know
Our indiscretion sometime serves us well
When our dear plots do pall, and that should teach us
There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will—

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