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. E 4 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? 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? Mar. And liege-men to the Dane. [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. Mar. Holla! Bernardo, Ber. Say, what, is Horatio there ? Her. A piece of him. Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus. Mar. Horatio fays, 'tis but our phantafy; With us, to watch the minutes of this night; And let us once again affail your ears, Hor. Well, fit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. When yon fame star, that's weftward from the pole, 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. 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 E 5 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, '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, Did flay this Fortinbras: who by feal'd compact, Did forfeit (with his life) all thofe his lands, Had he been vanquisher; as by that cov'nant, Hath in the fkirts of Norway, here and there, The grave stood tenantless; the fheeted dead 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, E 6 |