Part 7
_Oph._ Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
_Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes_, _And dupp'd[15] the chamber door_; _Let in the maid, that out a maid_ _Never departed more._
[_Crosses to_ R.H.]
_King._ (L.) How long hath she been thus?
_Oph._ (R.) I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i'the cold ground. My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night.
[_Exit_, R.C.]
_King._ Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
[_Exit_ HORATIO, _through centre_ R.]
O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O, Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions!
_Enter_ MARCELLUS (R. _centre._)
_King._ What is the matter?
_Mar._ Save yourself, my lord: The young Laertes, in a riotous head,[16] O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; They cry, _Choose we: Laertes shall be king!_ Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, _Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!_
[_Noise within_, R.C.]
_Enter_ LAERTES, _armed_; Danes _following_ (R. _centre._)
_Laer._ Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without.
_Dan._ No, let's come in.
_Laer._ I pray you, give me leave.
_Dan._ We will, we will.
[_They retire without_, R.H.]
_Laer._ O, thou vile king, Give me my father.
_Queen_
(_Interposing._)
Calmly, good Laertes.
_Laer._ (R.) That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother.[17]
_King._ (L.) What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person: There's such divinity doth hedge a king,[18] That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Let him go, Gertrude.
[QUEEN _obeys._]
_Laer._ Where is my father?
_King._ Dead.
_Queen._ But not by him.
_King._ Let him demand his fill.
_Laer._ How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence,[19] Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Most throughly for my father.
_King._ Who shall stay you!
_Laer._ My will, not all the world's:[20] And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little.
_King._ Good Laertes, That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensible in grief[21] for it, It shall as level to your judgment 'pear As day does to your eye.
_Hor._
(_Without._)
Oh, poor Ophelia!
_King._ Let her come in.
_Enter_ OPHELIA (R.C.), _fantastically dressed with Straws and Flowers._
_Laer._
(_Goes up_ L.C.)
O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
_Oph._ (R.C.)
_They bore him barefac'd on the bier_; _And on his grave rain many a tear,--_
Fare you well, my dove!
_Laer._
(_Coming down_ R.)
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.
_Oph._ You must sing, _Down-a-down,[22] an you call him a-down-a._ O, how well the wheel becomes it![23] It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.
_Laer._ This nothing's more than matter.
_Oph._ There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;[24] pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies,[25] that's for thoughts.
_Laer._ A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted.
_Oph._ There's fennel for you,
(_crosses to the_ KING _on_ L.H.)
and columbines:[26] there's rue for you;
(_turns to the_ QUEEN, _who is_ R.C.)
and here's some for me:--we may call it herb of grace o'Sundays:[27]--you may wear your rue with a difference.[28]--There's a daisy:[29]--I would give you some violets,[30] but they withered all when my father died:--They say he made a good end,----
_For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy--_[31]
_Laer._ (R.) Thought and affliction,[32] passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness.
_Oph._
_And will he not come again?_ _And will he not come again?_ _No, no, he is dead_, _Gone to his death-bed_, _He never will come again._
_His beard was white as snow_, _All flaxen was his poll:_ _He is gone, he is gone_, _And we cast away moan:_ _Heaven 'a mercy on his soul!_
And of all christian souls, I pray Heaven. Heaven be wi' you.
[_Exit_ OPHELIA, R.C., QUEEN _following._]
_Laer._ Do you see this, O Heaven?
_King._ (L.C.) Laertes, I must commune with your grief,[33] Or you deny me right. Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labour with your soul To give it due content.
_Laer._ (R.C.) Let this be so; His means of death, his obscure funeral,-- No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,[34] No noble rite nor formal ostentation,-- Cry to be heard,[35] as 'twere from heaven to earth, That I must call't in question.
_King._ So you shall; And where the offence is let the great axe fall.[36] How now! what news?
_Enter_ BERNARDO (R.H.C.)
_Ber._ (C.) Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the Queen.
_King._ From Hamlet! who brought them?
_Ber._ Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.
_King._ Laertes, you shall hear them.-- Leave us.
[_Exit_, L.H.C.] [Reads.]
_High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom.[37] To morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return._ HAMLET.
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
_Laer._ (R.) Know you the hand?
_King._ (L.) 'Tis Hamlet's character:[38] _Naked,--_
And in a postscript here, he says, _alone_. Can you advise me?
_Laer._ I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come; It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, _Thus diddest thou_.
_King._ If it be so, Laertes, Will you be rul'd by me?
_Laer._ Ay, my lord; So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.
_King._ To thine own peace. Some two months since, Here was a gentleman of Normandy, He made confession of[39] you; And gave you such a masterly report, For art and exercise in your defence,[40] And for your rapier most especially, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy, That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. 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 sorrow, A face without a heart?
_Laer._ Why ask you this?
_King._ Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home: We'll put on those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together, And wager o'er your heads; he, being remiss,[41] Most generous, and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils:[42] so that, with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated,[43] and, in a pass of practice,[44] Requite him for your father.
_Laer._ I will do't: And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal, that but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm[45] so rare, Collected from all simples[46] that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death.
_King._ (L.) Let's further think of this; We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,[47] When in your motion[48] you are hot and dry, (As make your bouts more violent to that end,) And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him A chalice for the nonce;[49] whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,[50] Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?
_Enter_ QUEEN (R.C.)
_Queen._ (C.) One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow: Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
_Laer._ (R.) Drown'd! O, where?
_Queen._ There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastick garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples;[51] There, on the pendent boughs her cornet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies, and herself, Fell in the weeping brook.
_Laer._ I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick:[52] nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out.[53] Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it.[54]
[_Exeunt._ C.]
END OF ACT FOURTH.
Notes
## Act IV
[Footnote IV.1: _Translate:_] Interpret.]
[Footnote IV.2: _In this brainish apprehension_,] Distempered, brainsick mood.]
[Footnote IV.3: _Where the offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence._] When an offender is popular, the people never consider what his crime was, but they scrutinise his punishment.]
[Footnote IV.4: _Politick worms_] _i.e._, artful, cunning worms.]
[Footnote IV.5: _The wind at help_,] _i.e._, ready.]
[Footnote IV.6: _May'st not coldly set_] Set is to value or estimate. "Thou may'st not _set little by it_, or _estimate it lightly_."]
[Footnote IV.7: _Our sovereign process:_] _i.e._, our royal design.]
[Footnote IV.8: _By letters conjuring to that effect_,] The verb to conjure, in the sense of to supplicate, was formerly accented on the first syllable.]
[Footnote IV.9: _Howe'er my haps_,] Chances of fortune.]
[Footnote IV.10: _His sandal shoon._] Shoon is the old plural of shoe. The verse is descriptive of a pilgrim. While this kind of devotion was in favour, love intrigues were carried on under that mask.]
[Footnote IV.11: _Larded with sweet flowers_;] _i.e._, Garnished with sweet flowers.]
[Footnote IV.12: _Heaven 'ield you._] Requite; yield you recompence.]
[Footnote IV.13: _The owl was a baker's daughter._] This is in reference to a story that was once prevalent among the common people of Gloucestershire.]
[Footnote IV.14: _Conceit upon her father._] Fancies respecting her father.]
[Footnote IV.15: _Don'd and dupp'd_] _To don_, is to _do on_, or _put on_, as _doff_ is to _do off_, or _put off_. To _dupp_ is to _do up_, or _lift up_ the latch.]
[Footnote IV.16: _In a riotous head_,] The tide, strongly flowing, is said to pour in with a great _head_.]
[Footnote IV.17: _The chaste unsmirched brow of my true mother._] _Unsmirched_ is unstained, not defiled.]
[Footnote IV.18: _Doth hedge a king_,] The word _hedge_ is used by the gravest writers upon the highest subjects.]
[Footnote IV.19: _Both the worlds I give to negligence_,] I am careless of my present and future prospects, my views in this life, as well as that which is to come.]
[Footnote IV.20: _My will, not all the world's:_] _i.e._, by my will as far as my will is concerned, not all the world shall stop me; and, as for my means, I'll husband them so well, they shall go far, though really little.]
[Footnote IV.21: _Sensible in grief_] Poignantly affected with.]
[Footnote IV.22: _You must sing Down-a-down_,] This was the burthen of an old song, well known in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote IV.23: _How well the wheel becomes it!_] This probably means that the song or charm is well adapted to those who are occupied at spinning at the wheel.]
[Footnote IV.24: _There's rosemary, that's for remembrance_;] Rosemary was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory, and was carried at funerals and wore at weddings. It was also considered the emblem of fidelity in lovers; and at weddings it was usual to dip the rosemary in the cup, and drink to the health of the new married couple.]
[Footnote IV.25: _There is pansies_,] _i.e._, a little flower called _heart's-ease_. Pansies in French signifies _thoughts_.]
[Footnote IV.26: _There's fennel for you, and columbines:_] Fennel was considered an emblem of flattery, and columbine was anciently supposed to be a _thankless flower_; signifying probably that the courtiers flattered to get favours, and were thankless after receiving them. Columbine was emblematical of forsaken lovers.]
[Footnote IV.27: _There's rue for you; and here's some for me:--we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays:_] Probably a quibble is meant here, as _rue_ anciently signified the same as _ruth_, _i.e._, sorrow. In the common dictionaries of Shakespeare's time, it was called _herb of grace_. Ophelia wishes to remind the Queen of the sorrow and contrition she ought to feel for her unlawful marriage; and that she may wear her rue with peculiar propriety on Sundays, when she solicits pardon for the crime which she has so much occasion to _rue_ and repent of.--MALONE.]
[Footnote IV.28: _You may wear your rue with a difference._] _i.e._, to distinguish it from that worn by Ophelia, herself: because her tears flowed from the loss of a father--those of the Queen ought to flow for her guilt.]
[Footnote IV.29: _There's a daisy:_] A daisy signified a warning to young women, not to trust the fair promises of their lovers.]
[Footnote IV.30: _I would give you some violets_,] Violets signified faithfulness.]
[Footnote IV.31: _For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,--_] Part of an old song.]
[Footnote IV.32: _Thought and affliction_,] Thought here, as in many other places, means melancholy.]
[Footnote IV.33: _I must commune with your grief_,] _i.e._, confer, discuss, or argue with.]
[Footnote IV.34: _No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones_,] Not only the sword, but the helmet, gauntlet, spurs, and tabard, (_i.e._, a coat whereon the armorial ensigns were anciently depicted, from whence the term _coat_ of armour), are hung over the grave of every knight.]
[Footnote IV.35: _Cry to be heard_,] All these multiplied incitements are things which cry, &c.]
[Footnote IV.36: _Let the great axe fall._] _i.e._, the axe that is to be laid to the root.]
[Footnote IV.37: _Naked on your kingdom_,] _i.e._, unprovided and defenceless.]
[Footnote IV.38: _'Tis Hamlet's character_,] Peculiar mode of shaping his letters.]
[Footnote IV.39: _Made confession of_] Acknowledged.]
[Footnote IV.40: _In your defence_,] _i.e._, "in your art and science of defence."]
[Footnote IV.41: _He, being remiss_,] _i.e._, unsuspicious, not cautious.]
[Footnote IV.42: _Peruse the foils_;] Closely inspect them.]
[Footnote IV.43: _A sword unbated_,] Not blunted, as foils are by a button fixed to the end.]
[Footnote IV.44: _In a pass of practice_,] This probably means some favourite pass, some trick of fencing, with which Hamlet was inexperienced, and by which Laertes may be sure of success.]
[Footnote IV.45: _No cataplasm_,] _i.e._, poultice--a healing application.]
[Footnote IV.46: _Collected from all simples_,] _i.e._, from all ingredients in medicine.]
[Footnote IV.47: _On your cunnings_,] _i.e._, on your dexterity.]
[Footnote IV.48: _In your motion_] Exercise, rapid evolutions.]
[Footnote IV.49: _For the nonce_;] _i.e._, present purpose or design.]
[Footnote IV.50: _Venom'd stuck_,] Thrust. Stuck was a term of the fencing school.]
[Footnote IV.51: _Long purples_,] One of the names for a species of orchis, a common English flower.]
[Footnote IV.52: _Our trick:_] Our course, or habit; a property that clings to, or makes a part of, us.]
[Footnote IV.53:
_When these are gone_, _The woman will be out._]
When these tears are shed, this womanish passion will be over.]
[Footnote IV.54: _But that this folly drowns it._] _i.e._, my rage had flamed, if this flood of tears had not extinguished it.]
## ACT V.
## SCENE I.--A CHURCH YARD.
_Enter two_ Clowns,[1] _with spades, &c._ (L.H.U.E.)
_1st Clo._ (R.) Is she to be buried in christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?
_2nd Clo._ (L.) I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight:[2] the crowner[3] hath set on her, and finds it christian burial.
_1st Clo._ How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?
_2nd Clo._ Why, 'tis found so.
_1st Clo._ It must be _se offendendo_;[4] 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:[5] argal,[6] she drowned herself wittingly.
_2nd Clo._ Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.[7]
_1st Clo._ 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,[8] 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 Clo._ But is this law?
_1st Clo._ Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law.[9]
_2nd Clo._ Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of christian burial.
_1st Clo._ Why, there thou say'st:[10] And the more pity that great folks should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even christian.[11] Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession.
_2nd Clo._ Was he a gentleman?[12]
_1st Clo._ He was the first that ever bore arms. I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself----[13]
_2nd Clo._ Go to.
_1st Clo._ What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
_2nd Clo._ The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
_1st Clo._ 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 Clo._ Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?
_1st Clo._ Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.[14]
_2nd Clo._ Marry, now I can tell.
_1st Clo._ To't.
_2nd Clo._ Mass, I cannot tell.
_1st Clo._ Cudgel thy brains no more about it,[15] 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, and fetch me a stoup of liquor.[16]
[_Exit_ 2nd Clown, L.H.U.E.]
_Enter_ HAMLET _and_ HORATIO (L.H.U.E.)
First Clown _digs and sings._
_In youth, when I did love, did love_,[17] _Methought, it was very sweet_, _To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove_ _O, methought, there was nothing meet._
_Ham._
(_Behind the grave._)
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, he sings at grave-making?
_Hor._
(_On_ HAMLET'S R.)
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
_Ham._ 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.[18]
_1st Clo._ _But age, with his stealing steps_, _Hath clawed me in his clutch_, _And hath shipped me into the land_, _As if I had never been such._
[_Throws up a skull._]
_Ham._ That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent Heaven, might it not?
_Hor._ It might, my lord.
[_Gravedigger throws up bones._]
_Ham._ Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with them?[19] mine ache to think on't.
_1st Clo._
[_Sings._]
_A pick-axe and a spade, a spade_, _For and a shrouding sheet:_[20] _O, a pit of clay for to be made_ _For such a guest is meet._
[_Throws up a skull._
_Ham._ There's another: Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets,[21] his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce[22] with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? I will speak to this fellow.--Whose grave's this, sirrah?
_1st Clo._ Mine, sir.--
[_Sings._]
_O, a pit of clay for to be made_ _For such a guest is meet._
_Ham._ (R. _of grave._) I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.
_1st Clo._ You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
_Ham._ 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. Clo._ 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.
_Ham._ What man dost thou dig it for?
_1st Clo._ For no man, sir.
_Ham._ What woman, then?
_1st Clo._ For none, neither.
_Ham._ Who is to be buried in't?
_1st Clo._ One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.
_Ham._ How absolute the knave is![23] we must speak by the card,[24] or equivocation will undo us,
[_To_ HORATIO, R.]
How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
_1st Clo._ Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
_Ham._ How long's that since?
_1st Clo._ Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was the very day that young Hamlet was born,[25] he that is mad, and sent into England.
_Ham._ Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?
_1st Clo._ Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.
_Ham._ Why?
_1st Clo._ 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.
_Ham._ How came he mad?
_1st Clo._ Very strangely, they say.
_Ham._ How strangely?
_1st Clo._ 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
_Ham._ Upon what ground?
_1st Clo._ Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
_Ham._ How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he rot?
_1st Clo._ 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
_Ham._ Why he more than another?
_1st Clo._ Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your ill-begotten dead body. Here's a skull now, hath lain in the earth three-and-twenty years.
_Ham._ Whose was it?
_1st Clo._ O, a mad fellow's it was: Whose do you think it was?
_Ham._ Nay, I know not.
_1st Clo._ A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.
_Ham._ This?
[_Takes the skull._]
_1st Clo._ E'en that.
_Ham._ 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. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! 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[26] she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
_Hor._ What's that, my lord?
_Ham._ Dost thou think Alexander look'd o'this fashion i'the earth?
_Hor._ E'en so.