DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Claudius, King of Denmark. Hamlet, Son to the former King, and Nephew to the present King. Polonius, Lord Chamberlain. Horatio, Friend to Hamlet. Laertes, Son to Polonius. Voltimand, Cornelius, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Osric, a Courtier. Another Courtier. Courtiers. Marcellus, Officers. Bernardo, Francisco, a Soldier. Reynaldo, Servant to Polonius. Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of Hamlet. Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants. SCENF, Elsinore. ELSINORE. A Platform before the Castle. FRANCISCO on his Post. Enter to him BERNARDO. Ber. Bernardo? He. 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. Fran. I think, I hear them.-Staud, ho! Who is there? Hor. Friends to this ground. And liegemen to the Dane. O, farewell, honest soldier: Fran. Give you good night. Bernardo hath my place. Holla! Bernardo! Give you good night. [Exit Francisco. Mar. Ber. Say, What, is Horatio there? A piece of him. Hor. Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy; With us to watch the minutes of this night; Hor. 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! Enter GHOST. Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio. Mar. Speak to it, 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. [Exit Ghost. Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you of it? Hor. 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? Hor. As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on, When he the ambitious Norway combated: "Tis strange. Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not; But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. |