PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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 of Hamlet.
OPHELIA, daughter of l'olonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Gravediggers, 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.

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

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

IIo. Friends to this ground.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar

cellus.

Ho. What, has this thing appear'd again tonight?

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,

Partners.

He may approve our eyes,1 and speak to it.
Ho. Tush tush! 'twill not appear.
Ber.

Sit down awhile;

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

Ho.

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,

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. Ho. Most like :-it harrows me with fear and wonder.

Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar.

Speak to it, Horatio.

Ho. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of

night,

Have proof that we were no way mistaken.

T'ogether 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.

Ho. Stay; speak; speak, I charge thee; speak.

Mar. "Tis gone, and will not answer.

[Exit Ghost.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look

pale:

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you of it?

Ho. 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?

Ho. 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 Polacks 1 on the ice.

"Tis strange.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump2 at this dead hour,

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
Ho. In what particular thought to work, I know

not;

1 Sledged Polanders.

Just.