Producing forth the cruel ministers

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So thanks to all at once and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

65

[Flourish. Exeunt,

70

SCENE I. Elsinore.
Elsinore. A platform before the castle.

FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him BERNARDO.

BER. Who's there?

FRAN. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
BER. Long live the king!

BER. He.

FRAN. Bernardo?

5

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,

The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

FRAN. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! who is there?

Not a mouse stirring.

10

BER. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
MAR. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
BER. I have seen nothing.

When yond 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 again!

Enter Ghost.

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.

Question it, Horatio.

45

HOR. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form

40

335

30

25

20

50

[Exit Ghost.

55

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.

BER. How now, Horatio! you tremble, and look pale:

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you on't?

HOR. Before my God, I might not this believe,

Without the sensible and true avouch

MAR. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

65

HOR. In what particular thought to work I know not;

But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,

This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

MAR. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

70

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 shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week:
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
Who is't that can inform me ?

75

80

Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,

Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,

Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet—

For so this side of our known world esteem'd him

85

Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:

Against the which, a moiety competent

To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

90

Was gaged by our king; which had return'd

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant
And carriage of the article design'd,

His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,

95

Of unimproved metal, hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there
Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,

For food and diet, to some enterprise

That hath a stomach in't: which is no other-
And it doth well appear unto our state-
But to recover of us, by strong hand

100

A

And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands
So by his father lost and this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The source of this our watch and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
BER. I think it be no other, but e'en so :
Well may it sort, that this portentous figure

105

Comes armed through our watch, so like the king
That was and is the question of these wars.

110

HOR. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.

In the most high and palmy state of Rome,

A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
And even the like precurse of fierce events,

As harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen coming on,

Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen.

Re-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:

115

120

125

If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
Speak to me:

130