Act I. HORATIO and FORTINBRAS come out of the house swathed in
overcoats, the former looking nervously over his shoulder. It is a dark winter's evening after dinner._
FORTINBRAS.
[_Shivering slightly._] 'Tis bitter cold----
HORATIO.
[_Impatiently._] And you are sick at heart. _I_ know.
FORTINBRAS.
[_Apologetically._] The fact is, when I get a cold I often can't get rid of it for weeks. I really think we may as well stay in.
HORATIO.
[_Doggedly._] I'm sorry, but I can't agree with you. I shall sit here.
[_Sits down resolutely with his back to the castle._
FORTINBRAS.
[_Turning up his coat collar resignedly._] It's perfect rot, you know, To let yourself be frightened by a Ghost!
HORATIO.
[_Angrily._] A Ghost! You're always so inaccurate! Nobody minds a spectre at the feast Less than Horatio, but a dozen spectres, All sitting round your hospitable board And clamouring for dinner, are a sight No one can bear with equanimity. Of course, I know it's different for you. _You_ don't believe in ghosts!... Ugh, what was that?
FORTINBRAS.
Nothing.
HORATIO.
I'm sure I saw a figure moving there.
FORTINBRAS.
Absurd! It's far too dark to _see_ at all. [_Argumentatively._] After all, what _are_ ghosts? In the most high and palmy state of Rome A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, People saw _hoards_ of them! Just ring for lights, And let us make ourselves as comfortable As this inclement atmosphere permits.
HORATIO.
[_Despondently._] I'd ring with pleasure, if I thought the bell Had any prospect of being answered. But as there's not a servant in the house----
FORTINBRAS.
[_Annoyed._] _No_ servants?
HORATIO.
[_Bitterly._] As my genial friend, Macbeth, Would probably have put it, "Not a maid Is left this vault to brag of." In other words, They left _en masse_ this morning.
FORTINBRAS.
Dash it all! Something is rotten in the state of Denmark When you, its reigning monarch, cannot keep Your servants for a week.
HORATIO.
[_Sadly._] Ah, Fortinbras, If you inhabited a haunted castle You'd find _your_ servants would give warning too. It's not as if we only had _one_ ghost. They simply _swarm_! [_Ticking them off on his fingers._] There's Hamlet's father. He walks the battlements from ten to five. You'll see him here in half an hour or so. Claudius, the late King, haunts the State apartments, The Queen the keep, Ophelia the moat, And Rosencrantz and Guildenstern the hall. Polonius you will usually find Behind the arras murmuring platitudes, And Hamlet stalking in the corridors. Alas, poor ghost! his fatal indecision Pursues him still. He can't make up his mind Which rooms to _take_--you're never safe from _him_!
FORTINBRAS.
But why object to meeting Hamlet's Ghost? I've heard he was a most accomplished Prince, A trifle fat and scant of breath, perhaps; But then a disembodied Hamlet Would doubtless show a gratifying change In that respect.
HORATIO.
[_Irritably._] I tell you, Fortinbras, It's not at all a theme for joking. However, when the New Wing's finished I shall move in, and all the ghosts in limbo May settle here as far as I'm concerned.
FORTINBRAS.
When will that be?
HORATIO.
The architect declares He'll have the roof on by the end of March.
FORTINBRAS.
[_Rising briskly._] It is a nipping and an eager air. Suppose we stroll and see it?
HORATIO.
[_Rising also._] With all my heart. Indeed, I think we'd better go at once.
[_Looks at watch._
The Ghost of Hamlet's father's almost due. His morbid love of punctuality Makes him arrive upon the stroke of ten, And as the castle clock is always fast He's rather apt to be before his time.
[_The clock begins to strike as they exeunt hastily. On the last stroke, GHOST enters._
GHOST.
I am Hamlet's father's spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day.... [_Stops, seeing no one there._ What! Nobody about? Why, this is positively disrespectful. I'll wait until Horatio returns And, when I've got him quietly alone, I will a tale unfold will make him jump!
[_Sits down resolutely to wait for HORATIO._