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The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare
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Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso
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1991-04-10
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424 lines
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.