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CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark.
HAMLET, Son to the former, and nephew to the present,
POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain.
HORATIO, friend to Hamlet.
LAERTES, son to Polonius.
OSRICK, a courtier.
FRANCISCO, a soldier.
REYNALDO, servant to Polonius.
A Captain. An Ambassador.
Ghost of Hamlet's father.
FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway.
GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and mother of Hamlet. OPHELIA, daughter of Polonius.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Gravediggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.
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
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.
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Fran. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who is there?
Hor. Friends to this ground.
And liegemen to the Dane.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. 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;
Sit down awhile;
He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.
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,
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
Ber. It would be spoke to.
Speak to it, Horatio.
Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of
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.
See! it stalks away.
Hor. Stay; speak; speak I charge thee, speak.
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look
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.
Is it not like the king?
Hor. As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on,
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
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that
Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task