First Gravedigger But age with his stealing steps Has caught me in his clutch, And has shipped me into the land, As if I had never been such. [He throws up a skull.] Hamlet That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. How the knave jowls it to th' ground, as if it were Cain's jawbone that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-offices, one that would circumvent God, might it not? Read more about popup_note_index_item 530
Hamlet There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits 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! 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 lands will hardly lie in this box, and must th' inheritor himself have no more? Ha. Read more about popup_note_index_item 531
Hamlet Is not parchment made of sheepskins? Horatio Ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too. Hamlet They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. – I will speak to this fellow. Read more about popup_note_index_item 532
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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 533
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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 534
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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 535
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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 536
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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 537
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.] Read more about popup_note_index_item 538
Gertrude How now, Ophelia? Ophelia [She sings a love ballad.] How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. Gertrude Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Read more about popup_note_index_item 513