PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Claudius, king of Denmark.

Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present

Francisco, a soldier.
Reynaldo, servant to Polonius.
A Captain. An Ambassador,
Ghost of Hamlet's father.
Fortinbras, prince of Norway.

Gertrude, queen of Denmark, and mother of Hamlet.
Ophelia, daughter of Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.

SCENE, Elsinore.

HAMLET,

PRINCE OF DENMARK.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle.

FRANCISCO on his Post. Enter to him BERNARDO.

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.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

■ Partners.

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

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

Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcel

lus.

Hor. What, has this thing appear'd 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,

Well, sit we down,

What we two nights have seen.
Hor.

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,-

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

again!

Enter Ghost.

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.

Speak to 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.

[Exit Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

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

Of mine own eyes.
Mar.

Is it not like the king ?

Hor. As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armour he had on,

When he the ambitious Norway combated;
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polack 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 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