William Shakespeare

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
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ACT I.

Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.

Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him].

  Ber. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.
  Ber. Long live the King!
  Fran. Bernardo?
  Ber. He.
  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,
    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.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

  Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?
  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.
  Mar. Holla, Bernardo!
  Ber. Say-
    What, is Horatio there ?
  Hor. A piece of him.
  Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.
  Mar. 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,
    He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
  Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
  Ber. Sit down awhile,
    And let us once again assail your ears,
    That are so fortified against our story,
    What we two nights have seen.
  Hor. Well, sit we down,
    And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
  Ber. Last night of all,
    When yond same star that's westward from the pole
    Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven
    Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
    The bell then beating one-

Enter Ghost.

  Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again!
  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.
  Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night
    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.
  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 on't?
  Hor. Before (...)

(......)