Wherein they fay you fhine; your fum of parts
Did not together pluck fuch envy from him,
As did that one, and that in ny regard
Of the unworthiest siege.

Laer. What part is that, my Lord?

King. A very feather in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no lefs becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than fettled age his fables, and his weeds
Importing wealth and gravenefs.-Two months fince,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy;

I've feen myfelf, and ferv'd against the French,
And they can well on horfeback; but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't, he grew unto his feat;
And to fuch wondrous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demy-natur'd
With the brave beaft; fo far he top'd my thought,
That I in forgery of fhapes and tricks
Come fhort of what he did.

Laer. A Norman, was't?

King. A Norman.

Laer. Upon my life, Lamond.

King. The fame.

Laer. I know him well; he is the brooch, indeed, And gem of all the nation,

King. He made confeffion of you,

And gave you fuch a masterly report,
For art and exercife in your defence;
And for your rapier moft efpecial,

That he cry'd out, 'twould be a fight indeed,

If one could match you. The ferimers of their nation,
He fwore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd 'em-Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet fo invenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wifh and beg
Your fudden coming o'er to play with him.
Now out of this-

Laer. What out of this, my Lord?

King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a forrow,
A face without a heart?

Laer. Why afk you this?

VOL. VIII.

Р

King. Not that I think you did not love your father,
But that I know love is begun by time;
And that I fee in paffages of proof,
Time qualifies the fpark and fire of it:
"There lives within the very flame of love

"A kind of wick, or fnuff, that will abate it,
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodnels growing to a pleurify,

Dies in his own too much; what we would do,
We should do when we would; for this would changes,
And hath abatements and delays as many

As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this hould is like a fpendthrift's figh
That hurts by eafing; but to th' quick o' th' ulcer-
Hamlet comes back; what, would you undertake
To fhew yourfelf your father's fon indeed

More than in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church.

King. No place indeed fhould murther fanctuarife;
Revenge fhould have no bounds; but, good Laertes,
Will you do this; keep clofe within your chamber;
Hamlet, return'd, fhall know you are come home:
We'll put on thofe fhall praise your excellence,
And fet a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together,
And wager on your heads. He being remifs,
Moft generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not perufe the foils; fo that with eafe,
Or with a little fhuffling, you may, chufe
A fword unbated *, and in a país of practice
Requite him for your father.

Laer. I will do't;

And for the purpose I'll anoint my

fword:

I bought an unction of a mountebank,

So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplafm fo rare,
Collected from all fimples that have virtue

Under the moon, can fave the thing from death,
That is but fcratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that if I gall him flightly,
It may be death.

King: Let's farther think of this;

Weigh that convenience both of time and means
May fit it to our fhape. If this fhould fail,

And that our drift look through our bad performance,
'Twere better not affay'd; therefore this proje&
Should have a back, or fecond, that might hold,
If this should blaft in proof. Soft - let me fee
We'll make a folemn wager on your cunnings;
I ha't when in your motion you are hot,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end),
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but fipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd tuck,
Our purpose may hold there.

SCENE X.

How now, fweet Queen?

Enter Queen.

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So faft they follow: your fifter's drown'd, Laertes. Laer. Drown'd! oh where ?

Queen. "There is a willow grows aflant a brook, "That fhews his hoar leaves in the glaffy ftream : "There with fantastic garlands did the come, "Of crow flowers, nettles, daifies, and long purples, (That liberal fhepherds give a groffer name to; "But our cold maids do dead mens' fingers call them); "There on the pendant boughs, her coronet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious fliver broke;

"When down her weedy trophies and herself "Fell in the weeping brook; her cloaths fpread wide, "And mermaid-like, a while they bore her up; "Which time fhe chaunted fnatches of old tunes, "As one incapable of her own distress; "Or like a creature native, and endued

Unto that element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.

Laer. Alas then, fhe is drown'd!

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water haft thou, poor Ophelia; And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet

It is our trick; Nature her custom holds,

Let Shame fay what it will; when thefe are gone,

The woman will be out.

I have a fpeech of fire, that fain would blaze,

Adieu, my Lord !

[Exit.

But that this folly drowns it.

King. Follow, Gertrude:

How much had I to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I this will give it ftart again;
Therefore let's follow.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

A church.

Enter two Clowns, with spades and mattocks.

1 Clown. wilfully feeks her own falvation? I

S fhe to be buried in Christian burial, that

2 Clown. I tell thee the is, therefore make her grave ftraight; the crowner hath fat on her, and finds it Chriftian burial.

1 Clown. How can that be, unless fhe drowned her felf in her own defence?

2 Clown. Why, 'tis found fo.

1 Clown. "It must be fe 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, the "drown'd herself wittingly.

2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman Delver. I Clown. "Give me leave; here lies the water, good: here ftands 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 drown not him"felf. Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death, fhortens not his own life.

2 Clown. But is this law?

1 Clown. Ay, marry is't, crowner's queft-law.

2 Clown. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, fhe fhould have been buried -out of Chriftian burial.

1 Clown.

1 Clown. Why, there thou fay'ft. And the more pity, that great folk fhould have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Chriftian Come, my fpade; there is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profeffion.

2 Clown. Was he a gentleman ?

1 Glown. He was the firft that ever bore arins. 2 Clown. Why, he had none.

I Clown. What, art a Heathen? how doft thou understand the fcripture? the fcripture fays Adam digg'd; could he dig without arms I'll put another question to thee; if thou anfwereft me to the purpose, confefs thyfelf

2 Clown. Go to.

1 Clown. What is he that builds ftronger than either the mafon, the fhipwright, or the carpenter? 2 Clown. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants

1 Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gallows does well; but how does it well? it does well to thofe that do ill: now thou doft ill, to fay the gallows is built ftronger than the church; drgal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, coine.

2 Clown. Who builds ftronger than a mason, a fhipwright, or a carpenter?

Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

2 Clown. Marry, now I can tell.

1 Clown. To't.

2 Clown. Mafs, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.

1 Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull afs will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are afk'd this question next, fay a gravemaker. The houses he makes laft till doomí-day. Go, get thee to Youghan, and fetch me a ftoup of li[Exit 2 Clown.

quor.

He digs, and fings.

In youth when I did love, did love,
Methought it was very sweet;