Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand, Mon. But I can give thee more, For I will raise her statue in pure gold; Cap. As rich fhall Romeo's by his Lady lie; Prince. A gloomy peace this morning with it brings, The fun for forrow will not fhew his head; Go hence to have more talk of thefe fad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and fome punished. For never was a story of more woe, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [Exeunt omnes. HAMLET, Fortinbras, Prince of Nor-Reynoldo, fervant to Polo nius. Ghost of Hamlet's father. Players,Grave makers,Sail- Rofincrantz, SCEN E, Elfinoor. ACT I. SCENE I. Ber. A platform before the palace. Enter Bernardo and Francifco, two centinels. W HO's there? Fran. Nay, answer me: ftand, and unfold yourself. 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, Fran cifco. Fran For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am fick at heart. Ber. Have you had quiet guard? The story is taken from Saxo Grammaticus's Danish history. VOL. VIII. H Fran. Fran. Not a moufe ftirring. Ber. Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Mercellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make hafte. Enter Horatio and Mercellus. Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! who is there? Hor. Friends to this ground. Mar. And liege-men to the Dane. Fran. Give you good night. Mar. Oh, farewel, honeft foldier; 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. [Giving his hand. 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 phantafy; And will not let belief take hold of him, Touching this dreaded fight, twice feen of us; With us, to watch the minutes of this night; He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. Ber. Sit down a while, And let us once again affail your ears, And let us hear Bernado speak of this. When yon fame ftar that's weftward from the pole, The bell then beating one, Mar. Peace, break thee off. *icak, for partners. Enter Enter the Ghoft. Look where it comes again. Ber. In the fame figure, like the King that's dead. Mar. Speak to it, Horatio. Hor. What art thou that ufurp'ft this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the Majefty of buried Denmark Did fometime march? By Heav'n, I charge thee speak. Mar. It is offended. Ber. See! it stalks away. Hor. Stay; fpeak; I charge thee, speak. [Exit Ghoft. Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale. Is not this fomething more than phantafy? What think you of it? Hor. Before my God I might not this believe, Without the fenfible and try'd 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 th' ambitious Norway combated: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle 'Tis ftrange Mar. Thus twice before, and juft at this dead hour With martial ftalk, he hath gone by our watch. Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not; But, in the grofs and scope of my opinion, This bodes fome ftrange eruption to our ftate. Mar. Good now fit down, and tell me he that knows, Why fuch imprefs of fhipwrights, whofe fore tak What 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, Did forfeit (with his life) all thofe his lands Had he been vanquifher; as by the fame comart, His fell to Hamlet. Now young Fortinbras, The fource of this our watch, and the chief head Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. • unimproved, tor unrefined. palmy, for videricus. "Stars |