Act One Scene Two
Sub-Scene
Seven
My
father, the King, and Ghost.
“Two nights together had these
gentlemen, Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch by the main gate with the
wall to their back.” Horatio narrated
his tale.
“In the dead waste and middle of the
night, been thus encountered: a figure like your father; dressed armed at point
exactly; he was in his bathrobe He carries a gun with him nightly. He appears
before them and with solemn march goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he
walked by their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes.”
“Within his truncheon's length, whilst
they, distilled almost to jelly with the act of fear, they stood dumb and speak
not to him. This to me within dreadful secrecy impart they did, and I with them
the third night kept the watch.”
“It
was a billy jack, Horatio.” Marcellus corrected the other. “We don’t have
truncheons.”
“Whereas they had delivered, both in time, the form of the thing, each word made true and good the apparition comes. I knew your father.” Horatio held out his hands. “These hands are not more like these.”
“Where
was this again?”
“By
the walls at the main gate.”
“Did
you not speak to it?’
“My Prince, I did
but the answer made it none. Yet
once methought
it lifted its head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak. But even
then the morning rooster
crowed loudly,
and at the sound, it shrunk in
haste away
and vanished from our sight.
“It’s
strange.” Hamlet frowned his forehead.
“As I do live, my Prince, this
is true. And we did
think it writ down in our duty to let you know of it.” It was then
Horation reveal his visit to the grave.
“Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch tonight?” Hamlet asked.
“We
do, my Prince.”
“In
his bathrobe? And sandals?” Hamlet asked.
“Yes, my Prince. His favorite.”
“His nightcap on?” The King wore a
nightcap when he goes to sleep. He claims it keeps his memory of the script
intact in him.
“You saw not his face?”
“Oh, yes. We did. His cap was to the rear
of his head. His ears expose.” Horatio replied. “His countenance was anger. No,
it was more of a horror. He was not ready for it.”
“Was he … pale or white?”
“I can’t tell. It was a ghost we saw. All
looked white then.”
“I
will watch it tonight.” Hamlet was intrigued. “If it
assumes 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 concealed 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 love.
So fare you well
upon the platform, twixt eleven and twelve, till I visit you.”
“Thank you, Father. Your final play may still stay
my mind from madness.” Hamlet smiled.
“Is he mad, Horatio?” Marcellus asked. “He looked
like one now with it.”
“Let the ghost decides,” Horatio replied.
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