HAMLET,

Prince of DENMARK. (1)

АСТ I.

SCENE, A Platform before the Palace.

W

Enter Bernardo and Francifco, two Centinels.

Ber. He.

BERNARDO.

HO's there?

Fran. Nay, anfwer me: ftand, and unfold your self.

Ber. Long live the King!

Fran. Bernardo ?

Fran. You come moft carefully upon your hour.
Ber. 'Tis now ftruck twelve; get thee to bed, Francifco.
VOL. VII.

Р

Fran.

(1) Honeft Langbaine (in his account of Dramatic Poets) having told us, that he knew not whether this Story were true or falfe, not finding in the Lift given by Doctor Heylin such 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. Langbaine gives

us

Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am fick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet Guard?
Fran. Not a mouse stirring.

Ber. Well, good night.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my Watch, bid them make hafte.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I think, I hear them. Stand, ho! who is there? Har. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And liege-men to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good night.

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

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

us a fenfible Reason 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 Story is taken from Saxo Grammaticus in his Danif Hiftory. I fubjoin a fhort Extract of the material Circumstances, on which the Groundwork of the Plot is built: and how happily the Poet has adapted his Incidents, I fhall leave to the Obfervation of every Reader. The Hiftorian calls our Poet's Hero, Amlethus; his Father, Horwendillus; his Uncle, Fengo; and his, Mother, Gerutha. The Old King in fingle Combat flew Collerus, King of Norway; Fengo makes away with his Brother Horwendillus, and marries his Widow Gerutha. Amlethus, to avoid being fufpected by his Uncle of Defigns, affumes 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 Amlethus, in order to found him, fhould be closeted by his Mother. A Man is conceal'd in the Rufhes to overhear their Difcourfe; whom Amlethus discovers and kills. When the Queen is frighted at this Behaviour of his, he tasks her about her criminal Courfe of Life, and incestuous Converfation with her former Husband's Murtherer: confeffes, his Madness is but counterfeited, to preferve himself and fecure his Revenge for his Father; to which he injoyns the Queen's Silence. Fengo fends Amlethus to Britaine: Two of the King's Servants attend him, with Letters to the British King, ftrictly prefling the Death of Amlethus, who, in the Night-time, coming at their Commiffion, o'er-reads it, forms a new one, and turns the Destruction, defign'd towards himself, on the Bearers of the Letters. Amlethus, returning home, by a Wile furprizes and

kills his Uncle.

Mar.

Mar. Holla! Bernardo,

Ber. Say, what, is Horatio there?
Hor. A piece of him.

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

Mar. Horatio fays, 'tis but our phantafie;
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 fpeak to it.
Hor. Tufh! tufh! 'twill not appear.
Ber. Sit down a while,

And let us once again affail your ears,
That are fo fortified againft our ftory,
What we have two nights feen.
Hor. Well, fit we down,

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

When yon fame Star, that's weftward from the Pole,
Had made his courfe t'illume that part of heav'n
Where now it burns, Marcellus and my felf,

The bell then beating one,

Mar. Peace, break thee off;

Enter the Ghost.

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. Moft like it harrows me with fear and wonder.
Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.

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

In which the Majefty of buried Denmark

Did fometime march? by Heav'n, I charge thee, fpeak. Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See it ftalks away.

Hor. Stay; fpeak; I charge thee, fpeak. [Ex. Ghoft.
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale. Is not this fomething more than phantafie?

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. As thou art to thy self.

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.

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

This bodes fome strange 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 Subjects of the Land? And why fuch daily caft of brazen Cannon, And foreign mart for implements of war? Why fuch imprefs of fhipwrights, whofe fore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week? What might be toward, that this sweaty 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,
Whose 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 efteem'd him)
Did flay this Fortinbras: who by feal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did

Did forfeit (with his life) all thofe his Lands,
Which he stood feiz'd of, to the Conqueror :
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our King; which had Return
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 skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a lift of landlefs refolutes,
For food and dyet, to fome enterprize
That hath a ftomach in't: which is no other,
As it doth well appear unto our State,
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 post-hafte and romage in the Land.
Ber. I think, it be no other, but even so:
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 mightiest Julius fell,

The Graves stood tenantless; the fheeted Dead
Did fqueak and gibber in the Roman streets ;
Stars fhon with trains of fire, Dews of blood fell;
Disasters veil'd the Sun; and the moiit Star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's Empire ftands,
Was fick almoft to doom's-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)

P 3

Have

(2) And Prologue to the Omen coming on.] But Prologue and Omen are merely fynonomous here, and muft fignify one and the fame Thing. But the Poet means, that thefe ftrange Phanomena are Prologues, ard

Fore