PERSONS REPRESENTED. CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark. HAMLET, Son to the former, and Nephew to the present, King. GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and Mother to Hamlet OPHELIA, Daughter to Polonius. Lords. Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants. SCENE. Elsinore. 478 HAMLET. PRINCE OF DENMARK. ACT I. SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle. FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him, BERNARDO. Ay. Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. Fran. For this relief, much thanks; 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. Ber. Have you had quiet guard? Ber. Well, good night. Not a mouse stirring. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS. Fran. I think I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who's there? Hor. Friends to this ground, Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. Fran. Give you good night. Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier; Bernardo hath my place. Holla! Bernardo! Ber. What, is Horatio there? Hor. Say, A piece of him. Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. Hor. What, has this thing appeared again to-night? Ber. I have seen nothing. Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy; Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. With us to watch the minutes of this night; And let us once again assail your ears, Hor. Sit down awhile; Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. Ber. Last night of all, When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, The bell then beating one, Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! Enter Ghost. Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead. Mar. Speak to't, Horatio. Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? By Heaven, I charge thee, speak. Mar. It is offended. Ber. See! it stalks away. Hor. Stay; speak: speak, I charge thee speak. Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. [Exit Ghost. Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and look pale; Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you of it? Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and true avouch Is not this like the king? Hor. As thou art to thyself. Such was the very armor he had on, When he the ambitious Norway combated; So frowned he once, when, in an angry parle, 'Tis strange. Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not; But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land; And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, And foreign mart for implements of war; Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week: What might be toward, that this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint-laborer with the day; Who is't that can inform me? Hor. That can I; Our last king, At least, the whisper goes so. Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands, Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same co-mart, His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, For food and diet, to some enterprise VOL. IV.-31 2Q |