Hamlet Page #21

therefore make her grave straight.

The coroner hath sat on her,

and finds it Christian burial.

How can that be unless she drowned herself

in her own defense?

Why, 'tis found so.

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.

-But hear you, Goodman Delver.

-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.

-But is this law?

-Ay, marry, is 't: coroner's quest law.

Will you ha' the truth on 't?

If this had not been a gentlewoman...

...she should have been buried

out o' Christian burial.

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 grave-makers.

-They hold up Adam's profession.

-Was he a gentleman?

-He was the first that ever bore arms.

-He had none.

What, art a heathen?

How dost thou understand the Scripture?

The Scripture says Adam digged.

Could he dig without arms?

Ill put another question to thee.

If thou answerest me not to the purpose,

confess thyself.

-Go to.

-What is he that builds stronger...

...than either the mason,

the shipwright, or the carpenter?

The gallows-maker.

For that frame

outlives a thousand tenants.

[BOTH LAUGHING]

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.

"Who builds stronger than a mason,

a shipwright, or a carpenter?"

-Tell me that, and unyoke.

-Marry, I can tell.

To 't.

Mass, I cannot tell.

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 grave-maker."

The houses that he makes

last till doomsday.

Go, get thee to Yaughan.

Fetch me a stoup of liquor.

[GULPING]

[GRAVEDIGGER SIGHS]

[SINGING]

In youth when I did love, did love

O methought it was very sweet

GRAVEDIGGER:

To contract-O-the time for-a-my behoove

O methought there-a-was nothing-a-meet

Has this fellow no feeling of his business

that he sings at grave-making?

Custom hath made it in him

a property of easiness.

HAMLET:

'Tis e'en so.

The hand of little employment

hath the daintier sense.

GRAVEDIGGER:

But age, with his stealing steps

Hath caught me in his clutch

And hath shipped me until the land

As if I had never been such

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 now o'er-reaches...

...one that would circumvent God,

might it not?

-lt might, my lord.

-Or of a courtier, which could say:

"Good morrow, sweet lord.

How dost thou, sweet lord?"

HAMLET:
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?

Ay, my lord.

Why, even so,

and now my Lady Worm's...

[GRAVEDIGGER WHISTLING

AND HUMMING]

...chapless, and knocked

about the mazard with a sexton's spade.

Here's fine revolution,

and we had the trick to see 't.

Did these bones cost no more the breeding

but to play at loggats with them?

Mine ache to think on 't.

HAMLET:

Ha, 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?

HAMLET:
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? Hmm?

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 land

will scarcely lie in this box...

...and must th' inheritor himself

have no more, huh?

Not a jot more, my lord.

Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

Ay, my lord, and of calfskins too.

They are sheep and calves

which seek out assurance in that.

HAMLET:

I will speak to this fellow.

-Whose grave's this, sir?

-Mine, sir.

[SINGING]

O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet

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

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.

Thou dost lie in 't,

to be in 't and say 'tis thine.

'Tis for the dead, not for the quick,

therefore thou liest.

'Tis a quick lie, sir,

'twill away again from me to you.

-What man dost thou dig it for?

-For no man, sir.

-For what woman, then?

-For none, neither.

Who is to be buried in 't?

One that was a woman, sir,

but rest her soul, she's dead.

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 grave-maker?

Of all the days i' th' year,

I came to 't that day...

...that our last king, Hamlet,

o'ercame Fortinbras.

-How long is that since?

-Cannot you tell that?

Every fool can tell that.

lt was the very day

that young Hamlet was born.

He that was mad and sent into England.

Ay, marry, why was he sent

into England?

Why, because he was mad.

He shall recover his wits there,

or if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.

-Why?

-'Twill not be seen in him there.

There the men are as mad as he.

[HORATIO CHUCKLES]

-How came he mad?

-Very strangely, they say.

-How strangely?

-Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

-Upon what ground?

-Why, here in Denmark.

[HAMLET GROANS]

I have been sexton here,

man and boy, for 30 years.

How long will a man lie

i' th' earth ere he rot?

I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--

As we have many pocky corpses nowadays

that will scarce hold the laying in.

--he will last you

some eight year or nine year.

-A tanner will last you nine year.

-Why he more than another?

Why, sir, his hide

is so tanned with his trade...

...that he will keep out water

a great while...

...and water is a sore decayer

of your whoreson dead body.

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