Itself to motion, like as it would speak.
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.
Hamlet
'Tis very strange.
Horatio
As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
Hamlet
Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch tonight?
Marcellus and Barnardo
We do, my lord.
Hamlet
Arm'd, say you?
Both
Arm'd, my lord.
Hamlet
From top to toe?
Both
My lord, from head to foot.
Hamlet
Then saw you not his face?
Horatio
O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.
Hamlet
What, look'd he frowningly?
Horatio
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
Hamlet
Pale, or red?
Horatio
Nay, very pale.
Hamlet
And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Horatio
Most constantly.
Hamlet
I would I had been there.
Horatio
It would have much amaz'd you.
Hamlet
Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Horatio
While one with moderate haste might tell
a hundred.
Marcellus and Barnardo
Longer, longer.
Horatio
Not when I saw't.
Hamlet
His beard was grizzled, no?
Horatio
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Hamlet
I will watch tonight;
Perchance 'twill walk again.
Horatio
I warrant you it will.
Hamlet
If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
All
Our duty to your honour.
Hamlet
Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.
[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo]
My father's spirit in arms! All is not well;
I doubt some foul play: would the night
were come!
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's
eyes.
[Exit]
A room in Polonius's house
Enter Laertes and Ophelia
Laertes
My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.
Ophelia
Do you doubt that?
Laertes
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,