DRAMATIS PERSONÆ 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. VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, ROSEN CRANTZ, OSRIC, A Gentleman, MARCELLUS, BERNARDO, courtiers. } officers. FRANCISCO, a soldier. REYNALDO, a servant to Polonius. Players. Two clowns, grave-diggers. FORTINBRAS, prince of Norway. A Captain. English Ambassadors. GERTRUDE, queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet. OPHELIA, daughter to Polonius. Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants. Ghost of Hamlet's Father. SCENE: Denmark. The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark ACT FIRST 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. 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. Ber. Have you had quiet guard? Fran. Ber. Well, good night. Not a mouse stirring. 10 If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there? 3 Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS. Hor. Friends to this ground. Fran. Give you good night. And liegemen to the Dane. O, farewell, honest soldier: Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. 20 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 He may approve our eyes and speak to it. Ber. Hor. Sit down a while; 30 And let us once again assail your ears, Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. Ber. Last night of all, When yond same star that's westward from the pole Enter GHOST. 41 Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! Mar. Question it, 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. 50 [Exit Ghost. Ber. How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't? Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe 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; So frown'd 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. Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not; But, in the gross and scope of my 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; 60 71 80 At least the whisper goes so. Our last king, him |