Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes? Hor. I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too
Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance in that. I will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir? Clo. Mine Sir: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meete
Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't
Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine
Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest
Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me to you
Ham. What man dost thou digge it for? Clo. For no man Sir
Ham. What woman then? Clo. For none neither
Ham. Who is to be buried in't? Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule, shee's dead
Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake by the Carde, or equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the Lord Horatio, these three yeares I haue taken note of it, the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the Pesant comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his Kibe. How long hast thou been a Graue-maker? Clo. Of all the dayes i'th' yeare, I came too't that day that our last King Hamlet o'recame Fortinbras
Ham. How long is that since? Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that: It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee that was mad, and sent into England
Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England? Clo. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recouer his wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there
Ham. Why? Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as mad as he
Ham. How came he mad? Clo. Very strangely they say
Ham. How strangely? Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits
Ham. Vpon what ground? Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene heere, man and Boy thirty yeares
Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot? Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue many pocky Coarses now adaies, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some eight yeare, or nine yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare
Ham. Why he, more then another? Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that he will keepe out water a great while. And your water, is a sore Decayer of your horson dead body. Heres a Scull now: this Scul, has laine in the earth three & twenty years
Ham. Whose was it? Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was; Whose doe you thinke it was? Ham. Nay, I know not
Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester
Ham. This? Clo. E'ene that
Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft. Where be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee Horatio tell me one thing
Hor. What's that my Lord? Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion i'th' earth? Hor. E'ene so
Ham. And smelt so? Puh
Hor. E'ene so, my Lord