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Hamlet. Macbeth / Гамлет. Макбет
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Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
Barnardo
Sit down awhile,
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.
Horatio
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.
Barnardo
Last night of all,
When yond same star that's westward from
the pole,
Had made his course t'illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one —
Marcellus
Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again.
[Enter Ghost]
Barnardo
In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
Marcellus
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Barnardo
Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
Horatio
Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
Barnardo
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.
Barnardo
See, it stalks away.
Horatio
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
[Exit Ghost]
Marcellus
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Barnardo
How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale.
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on't?
Barnardo
Sit down awhile,
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.
Horatio
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.
Barnardo
Last night of all,
When yond same star that's westward from
the pole,
Had made his course t'illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one —
Marcellus
Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again.
[Enter Ghost]
Barnardo
In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
Marcellus
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Barnardo
Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
Horatio
Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
Barnardo
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.
Barnardo
See, it stalks away.
Horatio
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
[Exit Ghost]
Marcellus
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Barnardo
How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale.
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on't?
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