The Laurence Olivier Awards 1997


This is the tragedy...

of a man...

who could not

make up his mind.

- Whos there?

- Nay, answer me! Stand and unfold yourself.

- Long live the king.

- Bernardo?


-You come most carefully upon your hour.

Tis now struck 12:=.

Get thee to bed, Francisco.

For this relief

much thanks.

Tis bitter cold...

and Im

sick at heart.

Have you had

quiet guard?

- Not a mouse stirring.

- Well, good night.

If you do meet

Horatio and Marcellus,

the rivals of my watch,

bid them make haste.

I think I hear them.

- Stand ho! Whos there?

- Friends to this ground.

- And liegemen to the Dane.

- Give you good night.

Farewell, honest soldier.

Who hath relieved you?

Bernardo hath my place.

Give you good night.

- Hello, Bernardo.

- Say what? Is Horatio there?

A piece of him.

Welcome, Horatio.

Welcome, good Marcellus.

What, has this thing

appeared again tonight?

Ive seen nothing.

Horatio says tis

but our fantasy...

and will not let belief take hold of him

touching this dreaded sight...

twice seen of us.

Therefore, Ive entreated him along with

us to watch the minutes of this night.

That if again this apparition comes,

he may approve our eyes and speak to it.

Tush, tush,

twill not appear.

Sit down a while

and let us once again...

assail your ears that are

so fortified against our story...

what we two nights

have seen.

Well, sit we down,

and let us hear Bernardo

speak of this.

Last night of all,

when yon same star

thats westward from the pole...

had made his course into that part

of heaven where now it burns,

- Marcellus and myself, the bell then

beating 1.:
00- -

Peace, break thee off.

Look where it comes again!

In the same figure

like the dead King Hamlet.

Thou art a scholar.

Speak to it, Horatio.

Looks it not

like the king?

- Mark it, Horatio.

- Most like.

It harrows me

with fear and wonder.

It would be

spoke to.

Question it,


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, O speak!

Stay and speak!

Stop it, Marcellus!

- Tis here!

- TTis here!

Tis gone,

and will not answer.

How now, Horatio?

You tremble and look pale.

Is not this something

more than fantasy?

- What think you ont?

- Before my God, I might not this believe...

without the sensible and true

avouch of mine own eyes.

- Is it not like the king?

- As thou art to thyself.

Tis strange.

It was about to speak

when the cock crew.

Then it started like a guilty thing

upon a fearful summons.

Ive heard the cock

that is the herald to the morn...

doth with his lofty

and shrill-sounding throat...

awake the god of day,

and at its warning the wandering

and uneasy spirit hies to its confine.

It faded on the crowing

of the cock.

Some say that ever gainst

that season comes...

wherein Our Saviors

birth is celebrated,

the bird of dawning

singeth all night long.

And then, they say,

no spirit can walk 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.

So have I heard,

and do in part

believe it.

But look, the morn,

in russet mantle clad,

walks oer the dew

of yon high eastern hill.

Break we our watch up,

and by my advice let us impart

what weve seen tonight...

unto young Hamlet,

for upon my life, this spirit,

dumb to us,

will speak to him.

Lets do it,

I pray.

Something is rotten

in the state of Denmark.

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brothers

death the memory be green,

and that it us befitted

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Submitted on August 05, 2018


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"The Laurence Olivier Awards 1997" STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 28 May 2020. <>.

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