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CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark.
HAMLET, Son to the former, 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.
OPHELIA, Daughter to Polonius.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.
SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle.
FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him, BERNArdo.
Bernard. WHO's there?
Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold
Ber. Long live the king
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?
Ber. Well, good night.
Not a mouse stirring.
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, ho! Who's there?
Hor. Friends to this ground,
And liegemen to the Dane.
Who hath relieved you?
Give you good night.
O, farewell, honest soldier;
Bernardo hath my place.
What, is Horatio there?
A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. Hor. What, has this thing appeared 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.
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
And let us once again assail your ears,
Sit down awhile;
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,
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead.
Speak to't, 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.
Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and look pale;
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you of it?