SEC. CLO. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.

FIRST 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.

SEC. CLO. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter ?

FIRST CLO. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

SEC. CLO.

FIRST CLO.

SEC. CLO.

Marry, now I can tell.
To't.

Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO at a distance.

FIRST CLO. 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. [Exit Second Clown.

First Clown digs, and sings.

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

To contract, O! the time, for, ah! my behove,
O methought there was nothing meet.

HAM. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?

HOR. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. HAM. 'Tis e'en so; the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

FIRST CLO.

But age, with his stealing steps,
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me intil the land,
As if I had never been such.

HAM. That skull had a tongue in it, how the knave jowls it to the ground, jaw-bone, that did the first murder! pate of a politician, which this ass now would circumvent God, might it not?

HOR. It might, my lord.

[Throws up a skull. and could sing once; as if it were Cain's This might be the o'er-offices, one that

HAM. Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on 't.

FIRST CLO.

A pick-axe, 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.

HAM. 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! I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave 's this, sir? FIRST CLO. Mine, sir,

O! a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

HAM. I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in 't. FIRST CLO. 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. 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.

FIRST CLO. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.

HAM. What man dost thou dig it for ?

FIRST CLO. For no man, sir.

HAM. What woman, then?

FIRST CLO. For none, neither.

HAM. Who is to be buried in 't?

FIRST CLO. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAM. How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. How long hast thou been a grave-maker?

FIRST CLO. Of all the days i' the year, I come to 't that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAM. How long is that since ?

FIRST CLO. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that; it was the very day that young Hamlet was born ; he that is mad, and sent into England.

HAM. Ay, marry; why was he sent into England?

FIRST CLO. Why, because he was mad he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there. HAM. Why?

FIRST CLO. "Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he,

HAM.

How came he mad?

FIRST CLO. Very strangely, they say.

HAM. How strangely?

FIRST CLO. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
HAM. Upon what ground?

FIRST CLO. Why, here is Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

HAM. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? FIRST 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 ?

FIRST 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 dead body. Here's a skull this skull hath lain i' the earth three-and-twenty

years.

HAM. Whose was it?

FIRST CLO. A mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?

HAM. Nay, I know not.

FIRST CLO. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once.

skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

HAM. This!

FIRST CLO. E'en that.

This same

HAM. Let me see,-(Takes the skull.)-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. 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 chapfallen ? 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.

HOR. What's that, my lord ?
HAM.

Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?

HOR.

E'en so.

HAM. And smelt so? pah !

HOR. E'en so, my lord.

[Puts down the skull.

HAM. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

HOR. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

HAM. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander returneth into 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 Cæsar, dead and turn'd 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 to expel the winter's flaw.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ACT II.

Scene V.-Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and Attendant.
CLEO. Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.

Enter MARDIAN and a Messenger.

O! from Italy;

Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,

That long time have been barren.

MESS.

Madam, madam,

CLEO. Antony's dead! if thou say so, villain, Thou kill'st thy mistress; but well and free,

If thou so yield him, there is gold.

MESS. First, madam, he is well.
CLEO.

But, sirrah, mark, we use

Why, there's more gold.

To say the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold I give thee will I melt, and pour

Down thy ill-uttering-throat.

MESS.

Will't please you hear me?

CLEO. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:

Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well,

Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,

I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.

MESS.

Madam, he's well.

CLEO.

Well said.

MESS. And friends with Cæsar.
CLEO.

Thou 'rt an honest man.

MESS. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.

CLEO. Make thee a fortune from me.

MESS.
S.R.

But yet, madam,

N