群组-throwing
Drama as Literary Art
elling at
the beginning of the play
Scene I. [Elsinore Castle. The platform
of the watch.]
Enter
Bernardo
and
Francisco,
two sentinels
[from opposite directions].
①
Ber.
Who's
there?
Fran.
Nay, answer me.
Stand and unfold yourself.
Ber.
Long live the King!
Fran.
Bernardo?
Ber.
He.
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?
Fran.
Not a mouse
stirring.
Ber.
Well, good
night.
If 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! Who's there?
Hor.
Friends to this ground.
Mar.
And liegemen to
the Dane.
Fran.
Give you
good night.
Mar.
O
,
farewell,
honest soldier.
Who hath relieved you?
Fran.
Bernardo hath
my place.
Give you good night.
Exit.
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
appeared again tonight?
Ber.
I have seen nothing.
Mar.
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,
1
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to
it.
Hor.
Tush, tush, 'twill
not appear.
Ber.
Sit
down awhile,
And let us once again
assail your ears,
That are so fortified
against our story,
What we two nights
have seen.
Hor.
Well, sit we
down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of
this.
Ber.
Last night of
all,
When yond same star that's westward
from the pole
Had made his course t'
illume that part of heaven
Where now it
burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell
then beating one
—
Enter
Ghost.
Mar.
Peace! break thee off!
Look where it comes again!
Ber.
In the same figure,
like the King that's dead.
Mar.
Thou art a scholar;
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.
Question it,
Horatio.
…
④
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 on't?
Hor.
Before my God, I might not this believe
Without the sensible and true
avouch
Of mine own eyes.
Mar.
Is it not like the King?
Hor.
As thou art to thyself.
…
②
Hor.
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.
…
③
The cock crows.
2
Speak of it!
Stay, and speak!
—
Stop it,
Marcellus!
Mar.
Shall I
strike at it with my partisan ?
Hor.
Do, if it
will not stand.
Ber.
Tis here!
Hor.
Tis here!
Mar:
Tis gone!
Exit Ghost.
…
⑤
Ber.
It was
about to speak, when the cock crew.
Hor.
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.
Mar.
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 dare stir abroad,
The nights are
wholesome, then no planets strike,
No
fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallowed and so gracious is the
time.
Hor.
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 eastern hill.
Break we our watch up; and by my advice
Let us impart what we have seen tonight
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to
him.
pection
Scene II.
[Elsinore Castle. An audience chamber.]
Flourish.
Enter
Claudius,
King
of
Denmark,
Gertrude
the
Queen,
Hamlet,
Polonius,
Laertes
and his sister
Ophelia, Lords
Attendant.
King.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green, and that it us
befitted
To bear our hearts in grief,
and our whole kingdom
To be contracted
in one brow of woe,
Yet so far hath
discretion fought with nature
That we
with wisest sorrow think on him
3