Marcellus. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Bernardo. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
Horatio. Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
Bernardo. It would be spoke to.
Marcellus. Question it, Horatio.
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!
Marcellus. It is offended.