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PERSONS REPRESENTED

CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark

HAMLET, son to the late, and nephew to the present King

POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain

HORATIO, friend to Hamlet

LAERTES, Son to Polonius

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GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet
OPHELIA, daughter to Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and

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HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

ACT I

SCENE I

Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle

FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO

Ber. Who's there?

Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. Ber. Long live the king!

Fran.

Bernardo?

Ber.

He.

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.

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The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

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Fran. I think I hear them. — Stand, ho! Who

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Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar. What, has this thing appeared again to-night?
Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy;

And will not let belief take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us :

Therefore I have entreated him along

With us to watch the minutes of this night,

That if again this apparition come,

He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
Ber.

Sit down awhile;

And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.

Hor.

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
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

The bell then beating one,

Enter Ghost

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
Hor. Most like; it harrows me with fear and
wonder.

Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar.

Question it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of

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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!

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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?

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Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

Mar.

Is it not like the king?

Hor. As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armor he had on

When he the ambitious Norway combated;

60 So frowned he once, when, in an angry parle,

He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.

'Tis strange.

Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

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