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Laudius, King of Denmark.

Cla

Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.

Hamlet, Son to the former, and Nephew to the

prefent King.

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Francifco,

two Soldiers.

Reynoldo, Servant to Polonius.

Ghost of Hamlet's Father.

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 ELSINOOR.

HAM

HAMLE I,

PRINCE of

DENMARK

ACTI SCENE I

SCENE An open Place before the Palace.

Enter Bernardo and Francifco, two Centinels.

BERNARDO.

Ho's there?

Fran. Nay, anfwer me: Stand and unfold

your felf.

Ber. Long live the King.

Fran. Bernardo ?

Ber. He.

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.

Ber. 'Tis now ftruck Twelve, get thee to Bed, Francifco. Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,

And I am fick at Heart.

Ber. Have you had a quiet Guard?

Fran. Not a Moufe ftirring.

Ber. Well, good Night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Rivals of my Watch, bid them make hafte.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I think I hear them. Stand; who's there?
Hør. Friends to this Ground.

IT

Mar. And Liege-men to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good Night.

Mar. O, farewel, honeft Soldier, 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 Francifco.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio, welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to Night?
Ber. I have feen 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 fpeak to it.
Hor. Tufh, tufh, 'twill not appear.

Ber. Sit down a while,

And let us once again affail your Ears,
That are fo fortified against our story,
What we two Nights have feen.

Hor. Well, fit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo fpeak of this.
Ber. Laft Night of all,

When yon fame 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 felf,
The Bell then beating one-

Mar. Peace, break thee off;

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. Question it, Horati.

Hor. What art thou that ufurp't this time of Night, Together with that fair and warlike form,

In which, the Majefty of buried Denmark

Did fometimes march? by Heav'n, I charge thee, fpeak.

Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See! it ftalks away.

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

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

[Exit Ghoft.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale: Is not this fomething more than Phantafie?

What think you on't?

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 froun'd he once, when, in a angry parle,
He fmote the fledded Pole-axe on the Ice,

Tis ftrange

Mar. Thus twice before, and juft at this fame Hour, With Martial ftalk, hath he gone by our Watch.

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

This boads fome ftrange eruption to our State.

Mar. Good now fit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this fame strict and most observant Watch,

So nightly toils the Subject of the Land:

And why fuch daily caft of Brazen Cannon
And foreign Mart for Implements of War:

Why fuch Imprefs of Shipwrights, whofe fore Task
Does not divide the Sunday from the Week.
What might be toward, that this fweaty hafte
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,
Whofe Image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prickt on by a moft emulate pride)
Dar'd to the combat. In which, our valiant Hamlet,

(For

(For fo this fide of our known World efteem'd him)
Did flay this Fortinbras: who by a feal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldry,

Did forfeit, with his Life, all those his Lands
Which he ftood feiz'd on, to the Conqueror:
Against the which, a Moiety competent
Was gaged by our King; which had return'd
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been Vanquisher, as by the fame Cov'nant
And carriage of the Article defign'd,

His fell to Hamlet. Now Sir, young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved Mettle hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a Lift of Landless Refolutes,
For Food and Dyet; to fome enterprize
That hath a Stomach in't: which is no other,
And it doth well appear unto our State,
But to recover of us by ftrong Hand
And terms compulfative, thofe forefaid Lands
So by his Father loft: and this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our Preparations,

The fource of this our Watch, and the chief head
Of this Post-hafte, and Romage in the Land.
Ber. I think it be no other, but even fo:

Well may

it fort that this portentous Figure Comes armed through our Watch fo like the King, That was, and is the Queftion of thefe Wars.

Hor. A Mote it is to trouble the Mind's Eye.
In the most high and flourishing State of Rome,
A little e'er the mightiest Julius fell,

The Graves flood Tenantlefs, and the sheeted Dead
Did fqueak and gibber in the Roman Streets,
Sars thon with Trains of Fire, Dews of Blood fell,
Difafters veil'd the Sun, and the moift Star,
Upon whofe Influence Neptune's Empire stands,
Was fick almoft to Doom's-day with Eclipfe;
And even the like Precurfe of fierce Events,
As Harbingers preceding ftill the Fates,
And Prologue to the Omen coming on,
Have Heav'n and Earth together demonftrated
Unto our Climatures and Countrymen.

Enter

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