Ross. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt :

He only liv'd but till he was a man ;

The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd

In the unshrinking station where he fought,

But like a man he died.

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Ross. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then

They say, he parted well, and paid his score:

And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head.

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Macduff. Hail, king! for so thou art. Behold, where stands

The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:

I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,

That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine;

Hail, King of Scotland!

All.

Hail, King of Scotland!

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[Flourish.

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Malcolm. We shall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,

And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So, thanks to all at once and to each one,

Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle.

FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO.

Bernardo. Who's there?

Francisco. Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself. Bernardo. Long live the king!

Francisco. Bernardo ?

Bernardo. He.

5

Francisco. You come most carefully upon your hour. Bernardo. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

Francisco. For this relief much thanks; 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.

Bernardo. Have you had quiet guard?

Francisco.

Bernardo. Well, good-night.

Not a mouse stirring. 10

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Francisco. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

A piece of him.

19

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

Marcellus. 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.
Horatio. Tush, tush! 'twill not appear.
Bernardo.

And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.

Horatio.

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Sit down awhile, 30

Well, sit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Bernardo. Last night of all,

When yond 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,

35

Marcellus. Peace! break thee off; look, where it comes again!

Enter Ghost.

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Bernardo. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. Marcellus. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. Bernardo. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. Horatio. Most like it harrows me with fear and wonder.

Bernardo. It would be spoke to.

Marcellus.

Question it, Horatio. 45 Horatio. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and war-like form

In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak! It is offended.

Marcellus.
Bernardo.

See! it stalks away.

Horatio. Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

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[Exit Ghost.

Marcellus. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. Bernardo. How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale : Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you on't?

Horatio. Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

Marcellus.

Is it not like the king?

Horatio. As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armour he had on

When he the ambitious Norway combated;

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60

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

'Tis strange.

Marcellus. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

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Horatio. 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.

Marcellus. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

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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-labourer with the day:
Who is't that can inform me ?

Horatio.
That can I;
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,

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80

Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet—
For so this side of our known world esteem'd him-
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'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'd
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,
And carriage of the article design'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 list of lawless resolutes,

For food and diet, to some enterprise

That hath a stomach in't; which is no other

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As it doth well appear unto our state

But to recover of us, by strong hand

And terms compulsative, those foresaid lands

So by his father lost. And this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The source of this our watch and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage in the land.

105

Bernardo. I think it be no other but e'en so;
Well may it sort that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch, so like the king
That was and is the question of these wars.
Horatio. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye,
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse;
And even the like precurse of fierce events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen.

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But, soft! behold! lo! where it comes again.