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ACT I. SCENE 1,
Elsineur. A Platform before the Palace. FRANCISCO on his Post. Enter to him BERNARDO.
Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
Ber. Long live the king!
Fran. Bernardo ?
Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour, Ber, 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to-bed,
Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.
Ber. Have you had quiet guard ?
Fran. 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
Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
Fran. Give you good night.
Mar. O, farewel, honest soldier:
Who hath reliev'd you?
Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
Give you good night.
Mar. Holla! Bernardo!
What, is Horatio there?
Hor. A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to
Ber. I have seen nothing.
Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our phantasy;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us :
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor. Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
Ber. Sit down a while;
And let us once again assail your ears,
What we two nights have seen.
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
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
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. Hor. Most like :-it 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
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of bury'd Denmark
Did sometime march? by heaven I charge thee,
Mar. It is offended.
Ber. See it stalks away.
Hor. Stay; 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 phantasy?
What think you of it?
Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and true avouch
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
Mar. Thus, twice before, and just at this dead hour,
With martial stalk he hath gone by our watch.
Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
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?
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war?
Why such impress of ship-wrights, whose sore task
What might be toward, that this sweaty hastę
Hor. That can I;
At least, the whisper goes so.
Our last king,
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands,
Had he been vanquisher; as, by that covenant,
His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,