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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:06:11 GMT
HORATIO
Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:06:33 GMT
BERNARDO
It would be spoke to.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:06:47 GMT
MARCELLUS
Question it, Horatio.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:06:57 GMT
HORATIO
What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:07:34 GMT
MARCELLUS
It is offended.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:07:45 GMT
BERNARDO
See, it stalks away!
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:07:56 GMT
HORATIO
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!
Exit Ghost
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:06 GMT
MARCELLUS
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:17 GMT
BERNARDO
How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on't?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:28 GMT
HORATIO
Before my God, I might not this believe
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:38 GMT
MARCELLUS
Is it not like the king?
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:48 GMT
HORATIO
As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on
When he the ambitious Norway combated;
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
'Tis strange.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:08:58 GMT
MARCELLUS
Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:09:08 GMT
HORATIO
In what particular thought to work I know not;
But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
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Post by Jonny Fairplay on Dec 11, 2014 16:09:24 GMT
MARCELLUS
Good now, sit down, and 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 brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
Who is't that can inform me?
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