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Claudius, King of Denmark.
Ber. Who's there?
Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold Yourself.
Ber. Long live the king !
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?
Not a mouse stirring.
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS. Fran. I think, I hear them.--Staud, ho! Who is there? Hor. Friends to this ground. Mar.
And liegemen to the Dane. Fran. Give you good night. Mar.
O, farewell, honest soldier: Who hath reliev'd you? Fran.
Bernardo hath my place. Give you good night.
[Exit Francisco Mar.
A piece of him.
Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy;
Hor. Tush! tush! 'lwill not appear.
Sit down awhile;
Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Ber. Last night of all, When yon 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, -, Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
Enter Ghost. Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.
Speak to it, Horatio.
Mar. It is offended.
See! it stalks away.
[Exit Ghost. Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and look pale:
Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe,
Is it not like the king?
Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
not; But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Mar. 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: