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CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark.
HAMLET, Son to the former, and Nephew to the present, King.
POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain.
HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet.
LAERTES, Son to Polonius.
REYNALDO, Servant to Polonius.
GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and Mother to Hamlet.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors,
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.
SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle. FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him, BERNARDO.
Bernard. WHO's there?
Ber. Long live the king
Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold
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?
Not a mouse stirring.
Ber. Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Who hath relieved you?
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Fran. I think I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who's there?
Hor. Friends to this ground,
Fran. Give you good night.
And liegemen to the Dane.
O, farewell, honest soldier;
Bernardo hath my place. [Exit FRANCISCO. Holla! Bernardo!
What, is Horatio there?
A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy;
Sit down awhile;
Well, sit we down,
When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead.
Speak to't, 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.
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 of it?