Laer. Let this be so:
His meanes of death, his obscure buriall;
No Trophee, Sword, nor Hatchment o're his bones,
No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation,
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth,
That I must call in question
King. So you shall:
And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall.
I pray you go with me.
Exeunt.
Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.
Hora. What are they that would speake with me?
Ser. Saylors sir, they say they haue Letters for you
Hor. Let them come in,
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
Enter Saylor.
Say. God blesse you Sir
Hor. Let him blesse thee too
Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
Reads the Letter.