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Hamlet

Whose grave's this, sir?

First Gravedigger

Mine, sir.
[Sings.]
      Oh, a pit of clay for to be made 
      For such a guest is meet.

Hamlet

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

First Gravedigger

You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. 
For my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

Hamlet

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 Gravedigger

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

Hamlet   

Who is to be buried in't?

First Gravedigger

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

Hamlet

[To Horatio] 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
heels of the courtier he galls his kibe.     

Hamlet

[To First Gravedigger] How long have thou been grave-maker?

First Gravedigger

Of all the days i'th' year, I came to't that day that our
last King Hamlet o'ercame Fortinbras.

Hamlet   

How long is that since?

First Gravedigger

Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the
very day that young Hamlet was born — he that was mad 
and sent into England.

Hamlet

Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Gravedigger

Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there;
or if he do not, it's no great matter there.

Hamlet   

Why?

First Gravedigger

'Twill not be seen in him. There the men are as mad as he.

Hamlet

How came he mad?

First Gravedigger   

Very strangely, they say.

Hamlet   

How, strangely?

First Gravedigger   

Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

Hamlet   

Upon what ground?    

First Gravedigger

Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here,
man and boy, thirty years.

Hamlet

Let me see. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, 
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He 
has bore me on his back a thousand times; and now
how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises
at it. 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? No one now to mock your 
own grinning? Quite chop-fall'n? Now get you to my    
lady's chamber and tell her — let her paint an inch thick,
to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.
Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Claudius

                                       This is mere madness, 
And thus awhile the fit will work on him.
Anon, as patient as the female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will sit drooping.

Hamlet

                                      [to Laertes] Hear you, sir,
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I loved you ever. But it is no matter.
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.

Claudius

I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. 
[Exit Horatio.] 
[Aside to Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech.
We'll put the matter to the present push.
[Aloud] Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. 
This grave shall have a living monument.    
An hour of quiet thereby shall we see. 
Till then, in patience our proceeding be.
[Exit.]

Claudius  

How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
Than is my deed to my most painted word.    
Oh, heavy burden!

Hamlet

Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a 
breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet
I could accuse me of such things that it were better my
mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful,
ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have
thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape,
or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do
crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant 
knaves all. Believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. –     
Where's your father?

Polonius

Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge.
You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency —
That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly
That they may seem the taints of liberty,
The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
A savageness in unreclaimèd blood,
Of general assault.

Polonius

I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
I had not quoted him. I fear he did but trifle
And meant to wreck thee. But beshrew my jealousy!    
It seems it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,    
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king.

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