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CLAUDIU S, King of Denmark.

Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.

Hamlet, Son to the former, 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, belov'd by Hamlet.

Ladies attending on the Queen.

Players, Grave-makers, Sailors, Messengers, and other attendants.

SCENE ELSINO OR.

This Story was not invented by our Author; tho' from
whence he took it, I know not.

HAMLET, Prince of Denmark.

ACT I. SCENE I.

An open Place before the palace.

Enter Bernardo and Francisco, two centinels.

Ber. He.

BERNARD 0.

HO's there?

Fran. Nay, answer me: ftand and unfold

your felf.

Ber. Long live the King.

Fran. Bernardo?

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.
Ber. 'Tis now ftruck twelve, get thee to bed, Francisco.
Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,

And I am fick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard?

Fran. Not a mouse stirring.

Ber. Well, good-night.

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; who's there?

VOL. VI.

X X

Hor.

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And liege-men to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good-night.

Mar. Oh farewel, honest foldier; who hath reliev'd you?

Fran. Bernardo has my place: give you good-night.

Mar. Holla, Bernardo.

Ber. Say, what is Horatio there?

Hor. A piece of him.

[Exit Francisco.

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

Mar. Horatio fays, 'tis but our phantafie,

And will not let belief take hold of him,

Touching this dreaded fight, 'twice feen of us;

Therefore I have intreated 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, tufh, 'twill not appear.
Ber. Sit down a while,

And let us once again affail your ears,

That are so fortified against our story,
What we have two nights seen.

Hor. Well, fit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber. Last night of all,

When yon same star, that's weftward from the pole,
Had made his courfe t'illume that part of heav'n

Where now it burns, Marcellus and my self,

The bell then beating one ----

Mar. Peace, break thee off;

Enter

Enter the Ghoft.

Look where it comes again.

Ber. In the fame 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. Moft like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou that ufurp'ft this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form,

In which the majefty of buried Denmark

Did sometime march? by Heav'n I charge thee speak.
Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See! it stalks away.

Hor. Stay; fpeak; I charge thee, fpeak.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

[Ex. Ghoft.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale.

Is not this something more than phantasie?

What think you of it?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe,

Without the fenfible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. As thou art to thy felf.

Such was the very armour he had on,

When he th' ambitious Norway combated:

So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle,
He smote the fleaded Polack on the ice.

'Tis strange --

a

b

Mer. Thus twice before, and juft at this dead hour,

With martial stalk, hath he gone by our watch.

• Pole-axe in the common editions; he speaks of a prince of Poland whom he flew in battle. He uses the word Polack again, act. 2. fcene 4.

Xx 2

b fame.

Hor.

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the grofs and fcope of my opinion,

This bodes fome strange eruption to our state.

Mar. Good now fit down, and tell me, he that knows,
Why this fame ftrict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the fubjects of the land?
And why fuch daily caft of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war?
Why fuch imprefs of fhipwrights, whose fore task
Does not divide the funday from the week?
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint labourer with the day:
Who is't that can inform me ?

Hor. That can I,

At least the whisper goes fo. Our last King,
Whose image even but now appear❜d to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prickt on by a most emulate pride)
Dar'd to the fight. In which, our valiant Hamlet,
(For fo this fide of our known world esteem'd him)
Did flay this Fortinbras: who by feal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit (with his life) all those his lands
Which he stood seiz'd of to the Conqueror:
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our King; which had return
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he been vanquisher, as by that cov❜nant
And carriage of the articles defign'd,
His fell to Hamlet. Now young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a list of landless resolutes,

For

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