Poor Marcellus gazed about him in despair, as if he was looking for help; but no help came, except from the side of the platform, where the prompter tried in a loud whisper to aid the desperate player.
Horatio, to help his comrade, went back to the last line he had spoken, and repeated, “Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, but can’t,” replied Marcellus, casting Shakespeare and discretion aside at the same time.
The words were too much for our boys, who, up to this time, had been striving desperately to remain quiet. Jock had stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth, but the explosive force of the last despairing speech of Marcellus had proved too much for him to bear, and a prolonged squeal came from his lips which forced even the handkerchief from its place.
“He-e-e-e-e-e!” he cried, and in a moment his companions were all clinging to the back of the seat in front of them and shaking with laughter. But few others in the audience seemed to be similarly affected, and Ethan turned and gave them a look which greatly aided in restoring their composure.
Marcellus was thoroughly angry now, however, and glared down upon the offending Jock as if he were minded to add other words which Shakespeare might perhaps have used, but which he certainly had not incorporated in the tragedy.
In a moment he rushed from the stage, seized the book from the hands of the prompter, and, returning to his place, read his part as the play was resumed. Then for a time all went well, and the eager boys found themselves looking forward to the time when “Hamlick” himself should appear.
True to his part, in the second scene the hero appeared, and our boys were soon all listening attentively. Tom’s first words were uttered in a voice that trembled, but he soon was master of himself and was giving his mother that sage counsel which has done so much to make both her and him remembered.
The king stalked about the stage with a crown that fairly glittered with jewels upon his head, and as for the queen, her gorgeous train was sadly in the way of Polonius and Laertes, and even “Hamlick” himself once trod upon it and received a look from her which well might have caused him to pause in his undutiful language.