HAMLET,

Prince of DENMARK. (1)

ACT I.

SCENE, a Platform before the Palace.

Enter Bernardo and Francisco, two Cntinels.

BERNARDO.

HO's there?

Fran, Nay, anfwer me: ftand, and unfold

yourself.

Ber. Long live the King

Fran. Bernardo?

Ber. He.

Fran.

(1) Honeft Langbaine (in his account of Dramatic Poe's) having told us, that he knew not whether this ftory were true or falfe, not finding in the lift given by Doctor Heylin fuch a King of Denmark as Claudius; Mr. Pope comes and tells us, that this story was not invented by our Author, tho', from whence he took it, he knows not.

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Lang

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. Ber. 'Tis now ftruck twelve; get thee to bed, Francifco. Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am fick at heart.

If

Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
Fran. Not a moufe ftirring.

Ber. Well, good night.

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 liege-men to the Dane.
Fran. Give you good night.

[you? Mar. Oh, farewel, honeft foldier; who hath reliev'd

Langbaine gives us a fenfible reafon for his ignorance in this point what to make of Mr Pope's affertion upon the grounds he gives us for it, I confefs, I know not. But we'll allow this gentleman, for once, a prophet in his declaration: for the ftory is taken from Saxo Grammaticus in his Danish history. I'll subjoin a short extract of the material circumstances, on which the groundwork of the plot is built: and how happily the Poet has adapted his incidents, I shall leave to the obfervation of every reader. The hiftorian calls our Poet's hero, Amleibus; his father, Horwendillus; his uncle, Fengo; and his mother, Gerutha. The old king in single combat flew Collerus, king of Norway; Fengo makes away with his brother Horwendillus, and marries his widow Gerutba. Amlethus, to avoid being fufpected by his uncle of defigns, affuines a form of utter madness. A fine woman is planted upon him, to try if he would yield to the impreffions of love. Fengo contrives, that Amletbus, in order to found him, fhould be clofeted by his mother. A man is conceal'd in the rushes to overhear their difcourfe; whom Amletbus difcovers and kills. When the Queen is frighted at this behaviour of his, he tasks her about her criminal courfe of life, and inceftuous converfation with her former hufband's murtherer: confeffes, his madness is but counterfeited, to preserve himself and fecure his revenge for his father; to which he injoins the Queen's filence. Fengo fends Amletbus to Britaine: two of the King's fervants attend him, with letters to the Britib King, ftri&tJy preffing the death of Amletbus, who, in the night time, coming at their commiffion, o'er-reads it, forms a new one, and turns the deAruction, defign'd towards himself, on the bearers of the letters. Amletbus, returning home, by a wile furprizes and kills his uncle.

Fran.

Fran. Bernardo has my place; give you good night.
[Exit Francifco.

Mar. Holla! Bernardo,

Ber. Say, what, is Horatio there ?

Her. A piece of him.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar. What, has this thing appeared again to-night?
Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio fays, 'tis but our phantafy;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded fight, twice feen of us;
Therefore I have intreated 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 a while,

And let us once again affail your ears,
That are fo fortified against our story,
What we have two nights feen.

Hor. Well, fit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Ber. Laft night of all,

When yon fame star, that's weftward from the pole,
Had made his course t'illume that part of heav'n
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

The bell then beating one,

Mar. Peace, break thee off;

Enter the Ghoft.

Look, where it comes again.

Ber. In the fame figure, like the King that's dead.
Mar. Thou art a fcholar, 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. Speak to it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou, that ufurp'ft this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form,

In which the majefty of buried Denmark

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Did

Did sometime march? by heav'n, I charge thee, speak. Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See! it ftalks away.

Hor. Stay; fpeak: I charge thee, fpeak. [Exit Ghaft. Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale. Is not this fomething more than phantasy ? What think you of it?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe, Without the fenfible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. A's thou art to thyself.

Such was the very armour he had on,

When he th' ambitious Norway combated:

So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
He fmote the fleaded Polack on the ice.

'Tis ftrange

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

Hr. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But, in the grofs and scope of my opinion,

This bodes fome ftrange eruption to our state.

Mar. Good now fit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this fame ftrict and most observant watch So nightly toils the fubjects of the land? And why fuch daily cast of brazen cannon, And foreign mart for implements of war? Why fuch imprefs of fhipwrights, whose fore task Does not divide the funday from the week? What might be toward, that this fweaty hafte Doth make the night joint labourer with the day: Who is't, that can inform me?

Hor. That can I;

At leaft, the whifper goes fo. Our laft King,
Whofe image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prickt on by a moft emulate pride)
Dar'd to the fight: In which our valiant Hamlet,
(For fo this fide of our known world esteem'd him)

Did flay this Fortinbras: who by feal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit (with his life) all thofe his lands,
Which he flood feiz'd of, to the conqueror:
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our ing; which had return'd
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher; as by that cov'nant,
And carriage of the articles defign'd,
His fell to Hamlet. Now young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,

Hath in the fkirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a lift of landlefs refolutes,
For food and diet, to fome enterprize
That hath a stomach in't: which is no other,
As it doth well appear unto our fate,
But to recover of us by ftrong hand,
And terms compulfative, thofe forefaid lands.
So by his father loft: and this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The fource of this our watch, and the chief head
Of this poft hafte and romage in the land.
Ber. I think, it be no other, but even fo:
Well may it fort, that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch fo like the King
That was, and is, the queftion of these wars.
Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightieft Julius fell,

The grave stood tenantless; the fheeted dead
Did fqueak and gibber in the Roman freets;
Stars ihone with trains of fire, dews of blood fell;
Difafters veil'd the fun; and the moist star,
Upon whofe influence Neptune's empire ftands,
Was fick almoft to dooms-day with eclipfe.
And even the like precurfe of fierce events,
As harbingers preceding ftill the fates,
And prologue to the omen'd coming on, (2)

Have

(2) And prologue to the omen coming on.] But prologue and amen ang marely fynonymous here, and must fignify one and the fame thing,

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