[The scene represents a platform before the castle of Elsinore, the royal seat of the Kings of Denmark. A bell tolls midnight. The curtain rises at the sixth stroke of the bell and discovers FRANCISCO walking on his post. BERNARDO enters at the tenth stroke of the bell.] post. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. BERNARDO. Long live the king! FRANCISCO. Bernardo? BERNARDO. He. FRANCISCO. You come most carefully upon your hour. BERNARDO. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. FRANCISCO. For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, Well, good night. BERNARDO. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. FRANCISCO. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? I have seen nothing. BERNARDO. MARCELLUS. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him He may approve our eyes and speak to it. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. BERNARDO. Sit down a while; And let us once again assail your ears, HORATIO. Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. Last night of all, BERNARDO. When yond same star that's westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Enter GHOST. MARCELLUS. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! BERNARDO. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. HORATIO. Most like it harrows me with fear and wonder. BERNARDO. It would be spoke to. MARCELLUS. Question it, Horatio. HORATIO. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, It is offended. MARCELLUS. BERNARDO. See, it stalks away! HORATIO. Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! MARCELLUS. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. BERNARDO. (Exit GHOST.) How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale : Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't? HORATIO. Before my God, I might not this believe As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on MARCELLUS. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, In what particular thought to work I know not; MARCELLUS. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land: Who is't that can inform me? HORATIO. At least the whisper goes so. That can I; Our last king, Whose image even but now appear'd to us, Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact, Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there But to recover of us, by strong hand, those fore- ‹ said lands So by his father lost. BERNARDO. I think it be no other but e'en so. Re-enter GHOST. HORATIO. But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! |