But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, [Sidenote: mine]
This boades some strange erruption to our State.

_Mar_. Good now sit downe, and tell me he that knowes
[Sidenote: 16] Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch,[2]
So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land,
And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon
[Sidenote: And with such dayly cost]
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[3]
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)[4]
Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant _Hamlet_,
(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him)[5]
[Sidenote: 6] Did slay this _Fortinbras_: who by a Seal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie, [Sidenote: heraldy]
Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands [Sidenote: these]
Which he stood seiz'd on,[6] to the Conqueror: [Sidenote: seaz'd of,]
Against the which, a Moity[7] competent
Was gaged by our King: which had return'd [Sidenote: had returne]
To the Inheritance of _Fortinbras_,