[Exeunt.
Enter Jaques and Pedro.
Jaques.
I wonder, Pedro, why our master thus
At midnight sends us with our torches light,
When man and bird, and beast, are all at rest,
Save those that watch for rape and bloody murder.
Pedro.
O Jaques, know thou that our master's mind
Is much distraught,[222] since his Horatio died;
And now his aged years should sleep in rest,
His heart in quiet, like a desperate man,
Grows lunatic and childish for his son:
Sometimes, as he doth at his table sit,
He speaks as if Horatio stood by him;
Then starting in a rage, falls on the earth,
Cries out Horatio, where is my Horatio?
So that with extreme grief and cutting sorrow
There is not left in him one inch of man:
See, here he comes.
Enter Hieronimo.
Hieronimo.
I pry through every crevice of each wall,
Look at each tree, and search through every brake,
Beat on the bushes, stamp our grand-dame earth,
Dive in the water, and stare up to heaven:
Yet cannot I behold my son Horatio.
How now, who's there? Sprights, sprights!
Pedro.