Hor. 
My lord, I did;
But answer made it none:  yet once methought
It lifted up it head, and did address
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.

Ham. 
’Tis very strange.

Hor. 
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.

Ham. 
Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. 
Hold you the watch to-night?

Mar. and Ber. 
We do, my lord.

Ham. 
Arm’d, say you?

Both. 
Arm’d, my lord.

Ham. 
From top to toe?

Both. 
My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. 
Then saw you not his face?

Hor. 
O, yes, my lord:  he wore his beaver up.

Ham. 
What, look’d he frowningly?

Hor. 
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Ham. 
Pale or red?

Hor. 
Nay, very pale.

Ham. 
And fix’d his eyes upon you?

Hor. 
Most constantly.

Ham. 
I would I had been there.

Hor. 
It would have much amaz’d you.

Ham. 
Very like, very like.  Stay’d it long?

Hor. 
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Mar. and Ber. 
Longer, longer.

Hor. 
Not when I saw’t.

Ham. 
His beard was grizzled,—­no?

Hor. 
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver’d.

Ham. 
I will watch to-night;
Perchance ’twill walk again.

Hor. 
I warr’nt it will.

Ham. 
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 to-night,
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.

Ham. 
Your loves, as mine to you:  farewell.

[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.]

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.]

Scene III.  A room in Polonius’s house.

[Enter Laertes and Ophelia.]

Laer. 
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.

Oph. 
Do you doubt that?

Laer. 
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,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting;
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.