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A Platform before the Palace.

FRANCISCO on his Post.-BERNARDO entering to


Ber. Who's there?
Från. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold your-

Ber. Long live the king!
Fran. Bernardo?
Ber. He.
Fran. You come most carefully upon your

hóur. Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Fran

cisco. Fran. For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter

And I am sick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
Fran. Not a mouse, stirring.
Ber. Well, good night.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Fran. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who is


Enter Horatio and MARCELLUS.
Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
Fran. 'Give you good night.

Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier !
Who hath reliev'd

you. Fran. Bernardo hath my place. 'Give you good night.

[Exit FRANCISCO. Mar. Holla! Bernardo!

Ber. Say,
What, is Horatio there?

Hor. A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar-

cellus. Hor. What, has this thing appear'd 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:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That, if again this apparition come,

may approve our eyes, and speak to it. Hor. Tush! tush ! 'twill not appear.

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

Hor. Well, 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,

[Clock strikes one.


Enter Ghost.

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes

again! Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. Hor. Most like:-İt harrows me with fear, and

wonder. Ber. It would be spoke to. 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 bury'd 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.

[Exit Ghost. 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?

Hor. 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. 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.

Enter GHOST.
But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me.—Stay, illusion!
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me:
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me:
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,
O, speak!
Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life,
Extorted treasure in the womb of the earth,
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
Speak of it!

(Cock crows. Exit Ghost. Stay, and speak!

Mar. 'Tis gone!
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer the show of violence.

Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
Break we our watch up ; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night

Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.



The Palace.

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.


King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's

death The memory

be green; and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves : Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr’d Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along :--For all, our thanks. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes ?

Laer. My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? What says

Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow


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