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 GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and 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. The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. 63 10 20 Fran. I think I hear them. — Stand, ho! Who Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. 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. Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, 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 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. Ber. It would be spoke to. Mar. Question it, Horatio. Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of 30 40 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! 50 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? 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. |