mirror of
https://github.com/fluencelabs/wasmer
synced 2024-12-14 06:35:40 +00:00
393 lines
8.7 KiB
Plaintext
393 lines
8.7 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
|
|
Shakespeare homepage | Hamlet | Entire play
|
|
ACT I
|
|
SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle.
|
|
|
|
FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Who's there?
|
|
|
|
FRANCISCO
|
|
|
|
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,
|
|
And I am sick at heart.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Have you had quiet guard?
|
|
|
|
FRANCISCO
|
|
|
|
Not a mouse stirring.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Well, good night.
|
|
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's there?
|
|
|
|
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
Friends to this ground.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
And liegemen to the Dane.
|
|
|
|
FRANCISCO
|
|
|
|
Give you good night.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
O, farewell, honest soldier:
|
|
Who hath relieved you?
|
|
|
|
FRANCISCO
|
|
|
|
Bernardo has my place.
|
|
Give you good night.
|
|
|
|
Exit
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Holla! Bernardo!
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Say,
|
|
What, is Horatio there?
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
A piece of him.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
I have seen nothing.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Sit down awhile;
|
|
And let us once again assail your ears,
|
|
That are so fortified against our story
|
|
What we have two nights seen.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
Well, sit we down,
|
|
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Last night of all,
|
|
When yond same star that's westward from the pole
|
|
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
|
|
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
|
|
The bell then beating one,--
|
|
|
|
Enter Ghost
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
|
|
|
|
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,
|
|
Together with that fair and warlike form
|
|
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
|
|
Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
It is offended.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
See, it stalks away!
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!
|
|
|
|
Exit Ghost
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
Without the sensible and true avouch
|
|
Of mine own eyes.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Is it not like the king?
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
As thou art to thyself:
|
|
Such was the very armour he had on
|
|
When he the ambitious Norway combated;
|
|
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
|
|
He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
|
|
'Tis strange.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
|
|
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
In what particular thought to work I know not;
|
|
But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
|
|
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
|
|
|
|
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,
|
|
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
|
|
And foreign mart for implements of war;
|
|
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
|
|
Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
|
|
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
|
|
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
|
|
Who is't that can inform me?
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
That can I;
|
|
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
|
|
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
|
|
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
|
|
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
|
|
Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet--
|
|
For so this side of our known world esteem'd him--
|
|
Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,
|
|
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
|
|
Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
|
|
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:
|
|
Against the which, a moiety competent
|
|
Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
|
|
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
|
|
Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,
|
|
And carriage of the article design'd,
|
|
His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
|
|
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
|
|
Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
|
|
Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
|
|
For food and diet, to some enterprise
|
|
That hath a stomach in't; which is no other--
|
|
As it doth well appear unto our state--
|
|
But to recover of us, by strong hand
|
|
And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
|
|
So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
|
|
Is the main motive of our preparations,
|
|
The source of this our watch and the chief head
|
|
Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
I think it be no other but e'en so:
|
|
Well may it sort that this portentous figure
|
|
Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
|
|
That was and is the question of these wars.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
|
|
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
|
|
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
|
|
The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
|
|
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:
|
|
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
|
|
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
|
|
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
|
|
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
|
|
And even the like precurse of fierce events,
|
|
As harbingers preceding still the fates
|
|
And prologue to the omen coming on,
|
|
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
|
|
Unto our climatures and countrymen.--
|
|
But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Ghost
|
|
I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
|
|
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
|
|
Speak to me:
|
|
If there be any good thing to be done,
|
|
That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
|
|
Speak to me:
|
|
|
|
Cock crows
|
|
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
|
|
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!
|
|
Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
|
|
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
|
|
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
|
|
Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
Do, if it will not stand.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
'Tis here!
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
'Tis here!
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
'Tis gone!
|
|
|
|
Exit Ghost
|
|
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
|
|
To offer it the show of violence;
|
|
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
|
|
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
|
|
|
|
BERNARDO
|
|
|
|
It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
And then it started like a guilty thing
|
|
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
|
|
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
|
|
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
|
|
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
|
|
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
|
|
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
|
|
To his confine: and of the truth herein
|
|
This present object made probation.
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
|
|
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
|
|
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
|
|
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
|
|
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
|
|
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
|
|
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
|
|
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
|
|
|
|
HORATIO
|
|
|
|
So have I heard and do in part believe it.
|
|
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
|
|
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
|
|
Break we our watch up; and by my advice,
|
|
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
|
|
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
|
|
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
|
|
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
|
|
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
|
|
|
|
MARCELLUS
|
|
|
|
Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
|
|
Where we shall find him most conveniently.
|
|
|
|
Exeunt
|