Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night,[3]
Together with that Faire and Warlike forme[4]
In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke
Did sometimes[5] march: By Heauen I charge thee speake.
Mar. It is offended.[6]
Barn. See, it stalkes away.
Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake. Exit the Ghost. [Sidenote: Exit Ghost.]
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble and look pale: Is not this something more then Fantasie? What thinke you on't?
Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and true auouch Of mine owne eyes.
Mar. Is it not like the King?
Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,
Such was the very Armour he had on,
When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: [Sidenote: when he the ambitious]
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle
He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.[8] [Sidenote: sleaded[7]
'Tis strange.
[Sidenote: 274] Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre,
[Sidenote: and jump at this]