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Act I, Scene 1
Elsinore. A platform before the castle.

Scene Summary

On a bitterly cold midnight at Elsinore castle, sentries Bernardo and Francisco exchange the watch. Bernardo, joined by Horatio and Marcellus, witnesses the appearance of a ghost resembling the recently deceased King Hamlet. The skeptical Horatio is shaken when the apparition appears twice but refuses to speak. Horatio explains the political tensions with Norway — young Fortinbras seeks to reclaim lands his father lost to King Hamlet — and speculates the ghost portends trouble for Denmark. As dawn breaks and the ghost vanishes at the cock's crow, they resolve to tell Prince Hamlet what they have seen.

Translation Style
✨ Character Voice Translations PREMIUM
Original Text
[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]
Modern English
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Shakespeare opens Hamlet not with the protagonist but with frightened guards on a dark rampart, immediately establishing an atmosphere of dread and uncertainty. The very first line — "Who's there?" — poses the play's central question about identity, hidden motives, and the unknowable. This is a world where no one can be sure of anything, not even who stands beside them in the dark.

The Ghost's appearance introduces the supernatural as a dramatic force that will drive the entire plot. Its resemblance to the dead king is confirmed by Horatio, the play's resident rationalist, whose conversion from skeptic to believer ("Before my God, I might not this believe / Without the sensible and true avouch / Of mine own eyes") establishes a key pattern: in Hamlet's Denmark, the unthinkable keeps turning out to be true.

Horatio's account of the Fortinbras backstory serves a crucial expository function, establishing the political world of the play. The elder Hamlet killed the elder Fortinbras in single combat and claimed his lands — a legally ratified duel whose consequences now ripple forward. Young Fortinbras's military buildup mirrors the supernatural disturbance, suggesting that Denmark faces threats from both the living and the dead.

The imagery throughout is dominated by darkness, cold, and sickness. Francisco is "sick at heart," Horatio trembles, and the ghost "harrows" with fear. Horatio's classical allusion to omens before Julius Caesar's assassination links Denmark's unease to the fall of great states, introducing the theme of political corruption that will deepen as the play unfolds.

The scene's closing image — "the morn, in russet mantle clad, / Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill" — provides a beautiful personification of dawn that temporarily dispels the nocturnal terror. But the decision to inform Hamlet ensures the darkness will return. The watchmen's role as passive witnesses to forces they cannot control foreshadows the helplessness that many characters will feel as events spiral beyond anyone's management.

"Who's there?" — Bernardo (I.1.1)

"'Tis bitter cold, / And I am sick at heart." — Francisco (I.1.8-9)

"What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?" — Marcellus (I.1.21)

"In the gross and scope of my opinion, / This bodes some strange eruption to our state." — Horatio (I.1.68-69)

"But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, / Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill." — Horatio (I.1.166-167)

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