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 the inheritor himself have no more, ha? Not a jot more, my lord. Is not parchment made of sheepskins? Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? Mine, sir. O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. 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. '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. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to you. What man dost thou dig it for? For no man, sir. What woman, then? For none, neither. Who is to be buried in't? One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. 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 a note of it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a grave-maker? Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. How long is that since? 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. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there. Why? 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he. How came he mad? Very strangely, they say. How strangely? Faith, e'en with losing his wits. Upon what ground? Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? I' faith,