Ham. Hold off your hand. [Sidenote: hands]
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe.
Ham. My fate cries out,
And makes each petty Artire[4] in this body, [Sidenote: arture[4]
As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:
Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:
By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:
I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.
Exeunt Ghost & Hamlet.
Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.[5] [Sidenote: imagion]
Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?
Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke.
Hor. Heauen will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him. Exeunt.