The Tragedie of Hamlet Page 01
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.
Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe
Bar. Long liue the King
Fran. Barnardo? Bar. He
Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre
Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco
Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sicke at heart
Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard? Fran. Not a Mouse stirring
Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there? Hor. Friends to this ground
Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane
Fran. Giue you good night
Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you? Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.
Mar. Holla Barnardo
Bar. Say, what is Horatio there? Hor. A peece of him
Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus
Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night
Bar. I haue seene nothing
Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie, And will not let beleefe take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs, Therefore I haue intreated him along With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night, That if againe this Apparition come, He may approue our eyes, and speake to it
Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare
Bar. Sit downe a-while, And let vs once againe assaile your eares, That are so fortified against our Story, What we two Nights haue seene
Hor. Well, sit we downe, And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this
Barn. Last night of all, When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe, The Bell then beating one
Mar. Peace, breake thee of: Enter the Ghost.
Looke where it comes againe
Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead
Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio
Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio
Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder Barn. It would be spoke too
Mar. Question it Horatio
Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night, Together with that Faire and Warlike forme In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake
Mar. It is offended
Barn. See, it stalkes away
Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.
Exit the Ghost.
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer
Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale: Is not this something more then Fantasie? What thinke you on't? Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and true auouch Of mine owne eyes
Mar. Is it not like the King? Hor. As thou art to thy selfe, Such was the very Armour he had on, When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice. 'Tis strange
Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch
Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to our State