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  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)

    enter Clowne and an other.
    3190Clowne I say no, she ought not to be buried
    In christian buriall.
    3191.12. Why sir?
    3195Clowne Mary because shee's drownd.
    3195.12. But she did not drowne her selfe.
    Clowne No, that's certaine, the water drown'd her.
    2. Yea but it was against her will.
    Clowne No, I deny that, for looke you sir, I stand here,
    If the water come to me, I drowne not my selfe:
    3205But if I goe to the water, and am there drown'd,
    Ergo
    Prince of Denmarke.
    Ergo I am guiltie of my owne death:
    3208.1Y'are gone, goe y'are gone sir.
    2. I but see, she hath christian buriall,
    Because she is a great woman.
    3215Clowne Mary more's the pitty, that great folke
    Should haue more authoritie to hang or drowne
    Themselues, more than other people:
    Goe fetch me a stope of drinke, but before thou
    3230Goest, tell me one thing, who buildes strongest,
    Of a Mason, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter?
    3231.12. Why a Mason, for he buildes all of stone,
    And will indure long.
    Clowne That's prety, too't agen, too't agen.
    2. Why then a Carpenter, for he buildes the gallowes,
    3232.1And that brings many a one to his long home.
    Clowne Prety agen, the gallowes doth well, mary howe
    3235dooes it well? the gallowes dooes well to them that doe ill,
    goe get thee gone:
    And if any one aske thee hereafter, say,
    A Graue-maker, for the houses he buildes
    Last till Doomes-day. Fetch me a stope of beere, goe.
    3245 Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
    3285Clowne A picke-axe and a spade,
    A spade for and a winding sheete,
    Most fit it is, for t'will be made, he throwes vp a shouel.
    For such a ghest most meete.
    Ham. Hath this fellow any feeling of himselfe,
    That is thus merry in making of a graue?
    See how the slaue joles their heads against the earth.
    Hor. My lord, Custome hath made it in him seeme no- (thing.
    Clowne A pick-axe and a spade, a spade,
    For and a winding sheete,
    Most fit it is for to be made,
    For such a ghest most meet.
    Ham. Looke you, there's another Horatio.
    Why
    The Tragedy of Hamlet
    Why mai't not be the scull of some Lawyer?
    3289.1Me thinkes he should indite that fellow
    Of an action of Batterie, for knocking
    3290Him about the pate with's shouel: now where is your
    Quirkes and quillets now, your vouchers and
    Double vouchers, your leases and free-holde,
    And tenements? why that same boxe there will scarse
    Holde the conueiance of his land, and must
    The honor lie there? O pittifull transformance!
    3302.1I prethee tell me Horatio,
    3305Is parchment made of sheep-skinnes?
    Hor. I my Lorde, and of calues-skinnes too.
    Ham. Ifaith they prooue themselues sheepe and calues
    That deale with them, or put their trust in them.
    3275There's another, why may not that be such a ones
    Scull, that praised my Lord such a ones horse,
    When he meant to beg him? Horatio, I prethee
    Lets question yonder fellow.
    Now my friend, whose graue is this?
    3310Clowne Mine sir.
    3325Ham. But who must lie in it?
    3325.1Clowne If I should say, I should, I should lie in my throat (sir.
    Ham. What man must be buried here?
    Clowne No man sir.
    Ham. What woman?
    Clowne. No woman neither sir, but indeede
    One that was a woman.
    Ham. An excellent fellow by the Lord Horatio,
    3330This seauen yeares haue I noted it: the toe of the pesant,
    Comes so neere the heele of the courtier,
    That hee gawles his kibe, I prethee tell mee one thing,
    How long will a man lie in the ground before hee rots?
    Clowne I faith sir, if hee be not rotten before
    He be laide in, as we haue many pocky corses,
    He will last you, eight yeares, a tanner
    Will last you eight yeares full out, or nine.
    Ham.
    Prince of Denmarke
    Ham. And why a tanner?
    Clowne Why his hide is so tanned with his trade,
    That it will holde out water, that's a parlous
    Deuourer of your dead body, a great soaker.
    Looke you, heres
    a scull hath bin here this dozen yeare,
    Let me see, I euer since our last king Hamlet
    3335Slew Fortenbrasse in combat, yong Hamlets father,
    Hee that's mad.
    Ham. I mary, how came he madde?
    Clowne Ifaith very strangely, by loosing of his wittes.
    3350Ham. Vpon what ground?
    Clowne A this ground, in Denmarke.
    3351.1Ham. Where is he now?
    Clowne Why now they sent him to England.
    3340Ham. To England! wherefore?
    Clowne Why they say he shall haue his wittes there,
    Or if he haue not, t'is no great matter there,
    It will not be seene there.
    Ham. Why not there?
    Clowne Why there they say the men are as mad as he.
    Ham. Whose scull was this?
    Clowne This, a plague on him, a madde rogues it was,
    He powred once a whole flagon of Rhenish of my head,
    3365Why do not you know him? this was one Yorickes scull.
    3370Ham. Was this? I prethee let me see it, alas poore Yoricke
    I knew him Horatio,
    A fellow of infinite mirth, he hath caried mee twenty times
    vpon his backe, here hung those lippes that I haue Kissed a
    3375hundred times, and to see, now they abhorre me: Wheres
    your iests now Yoricke? your flashes of meriment: now go
    3380to my Ladies chamber, and bid her paint her selfe an inch
    thicke, to this she must come Yoricke. Horatio, I prethee
    tell me one thing, doost thou thinke that Alexander looked
    thus?
    Hor. Euen so my Lord.
    Ham. And smelt thus?
    I Hor.
    The Tragedie of Hamlet
    Hor. I my lord, no otherwise.
    Ham. No, why might not imagination worke, as thus of
    Alexander, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander
    became earth, of earth we make clay, and Alexander being
    but clay, why might not time bring to passe, that he might
    stoppe the boung hole of a beere barrell?
    3400Imperious Caesar dead and turnd to clay,
    Might stoppe a hole, to keepe the winde away.
    3405 Enter King and Queene, Leartes, and other lordes,
    with a Priest after the coffin.
    Ham. What funerall's this that all the Court laments?
    3410It shews to be some noble parentage:
    Stand by a while.
    Lear. What ceremony else? say, what ceremony else?
    3415Priest My Lord, we haue done all that lies in vs,
    And more than well the church can tolerate,
    3415.1She hath had a Dirge sung for her maiden soule:
    And but for fauour of the king, and you,
    She had beene buried in the open fieldes,
    Where now she is allowed christian buriall.
    Lear. So, I tell thee churlish Priest, a ministring Angell
    shall my sister be, when thou liest howling.
    Ham. The faire Ofelia dead!
    3435Queene Sweetes to the sweete, farewell:
    I had thought to adorne thy bridale bed, faire maide,
    And not to follow thee vnto thy graue.
    Lear. Forbeare the earth a while: sister farewell:
    Leartes leapes into the graue.
    3445Now powre your earth on, Olympus hie,
    And make a hill to o're top olde Pellon: Hamlet leapesin after Leartes
    Whats he that coniures so?
    Ham. Beholde tis I, Hamlet the Dane.
    Lear. The diuell take thy soule.
    3455Ham. O thou praiest not well,
    I prethee take thy hand from off my throate,
    For there is something in me dangerous,
    Which
    Prince of Denmarke.
    Which let thy wisedome feare, holde off thy hand:
    I lou'de Ofelia as deere as twenty brothers could:
    Shew me what thou wilt doe for her:
    Wilt fight, wilt fast, wilt pray,
    Wilt drinke vp vessels, eate a crocadile? Ile doot:
    Com'st thou here to whine?
    And where thou talk'st of burying thee a liue,
    Here let vs stand: and let them them throw on vs,
    Whole hills of earth, till with the heighth therof,
    3480Make Oosell as a Wart.
    King. Forbeare Leartes, now is hee mad, as is the sea,
    Anone as milde and gentle as a Doue:
    3484.1Therfore a while giue his wilde humour scope.
    Ham. What is the reason sir that you wrong mee thus?
    I neuer gaue you cause: but stand away,
    A Cat will meaw, a Dog will haue a day.
    Exit Hamlet and Horatio.
    Queene. Alas, it is his madnes makes him thus,
    3482.1And not his heart, Leartes.
    King. My lord, t'is so: but wee'le no longer trifle,
    This very day shall Hamlet drinke his last,
    3496.1For presently we meane to send to him,
    Therfore Leartes be in readynes.
    3498.1Lear. My lord, till then my soule will not bee quiet.
    King. Come Gertred, wee'l haue Leartes, and our sonne,
    Made friends and Louers, as befittes them both,
    Euen as they tender vs, and loue their countrie.
    3498.5Queene God grant they may. exeunt omnes.
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