YUI (雅虎控件) API

The Tragedie of Hamlet Actus Primus. Scoena Prima. Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels. Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe Bar. Long liue the King Fran. Barnardo? Bar. He Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sicke at heart Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard? Fran. Not a Mouse stirring Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast. Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there? Hor. Friends to this ground Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane Fran. Giue you good night Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you? Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight. Exit Fran. Mar. Holla Barnardo Bar. Say, what is Horatio there? Hor. A peece of him Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night Bar. I haue seene nothing Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie, And will not let beleefe take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs, Therefore I haue intreated him along With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night, That if againe this Apparition come, He may approue our eyes, and speake to it Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare Bar. Sit downe a-while, And let vs once againe assaile your eares, That are so fortified against our Story, What we two Nights haue seene Hor. Well, sit we downe, And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this Barn. Last night of all, When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe, The Bell then beating one Mar. Peace, breake thee of: Enter the Ghost. Looke where it comes againe Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder Barn. It would be spoke too Mar. Question it Horatio Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night, Together with that Faire and Warlike forme In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake Mar. It is offended Barn. See, it stalkes away Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake. Exit the Ghost. Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale: Is not this something more then Fantasie? What thinke you on't? Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and true auouch Of mine owne eyes Mar. Is it not like the King? Hor. As thou art to thy selfe, Such was the very Armour he had on, When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice. 'Tis strange Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to our State Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch, So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land, And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre: Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke, What might be toward, that this sweaty hast Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day: Who is't that can informe me? Hor. That can I, At least the whisper goes so: Our last King, Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs, Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway, (Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride) Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet, (For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him) Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact, Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie, Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror: Against the which, a Moity competent Was gaged by our King: which had return'd To the Inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant And carriage of the Article designe, His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras, Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there, Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes, For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other (And it doth well appeare vnto our State) But to recouer of vs by strong hand And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands So by his Father lost: and this (I take it) Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations, The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land. Enter Ghost againe. But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe: Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion: If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce, Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me. If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate (Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake. Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth, (For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death) Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan? Hor. Do, if it will not stand Barn. 'Tis heere Hor. 'Tis heere Mar. 'Tis gone. Exit Ghost. We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall To offer it the shew of Violence, For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable, And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard, The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate Awake the God of Day: and at his warning, Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre, Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes To his Confine. And of the truth heerein, This present Obiect made probation Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke. Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated, The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad, The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike, No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it. But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill, Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice Let vs impart what we haue seene to night Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life, This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him: Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty? Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most conueniently. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant. King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe: Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues. Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy, With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes. Now followes, that you