MARCELLUS

And Liegemen to the Dane. Oh farewell honest Soldier, who hath relieved you? Holla Barnardo. What, ha this thing appeared again to night. Horatio says, it's but our Fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sighed, twice seen of us, Therefore I have entreated him along With us, to watch the minutes of this Night, That if again this Apparition come, He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. Peace, break thee of: Look where it comes again. Thou art a Scholar; speak to it Horatio. Question it Horatio. It is offended. It's gone, and will not answer. Is it not Like the King? Thus twice before, and joust at this dead hour, With Martial stalk, hath he gone by our Watch. Good now fit down, & tell me he that knows Why this same strict and most observant Watch, So nightly toils the subject of the Land, And why such daily Cast of Brazon Cannon And Foreign Mars for Implements of war: Why such impress of Shipwrights, whose soar Task Do's not divide the Sunday from the week, What might be towards, that this sweaty hast Does make the Night joint-labourer with the day: Who is't that can inform me? Shall I strike at ir with my Partizan? It's gone. We do it wrong, being so Majestical To offer it the show of Violence, For it is as the Air, invulnerable, And our vain blows, malicious Mockery. It faded on the crowing of the Cock. Some says, that ever against that Season comes Wherein our Saviour's Birth is celebrated, The Bird of Dawning sings all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walk abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no Planets strike, No Fairy talks, nor Witch hath power to Charm: So hallowed, and so gracious is the time. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall find him most conveniently. My good Lord. My Lord upon the platform where we watched. No, it is struck. Look with what courteous Actium It wafts you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. You shall not go my Lord. Let's follow; it's not fit thus to obey him. Something is rotten in the State of Denmark. Nay, let's follow him. Lord Hamlet. So be it. How ist't my Noble Lord? Nor I, my Lord. Nor I my Lord: in faith. We have sworn my Lord already.