HAMLET. So be it! 

 MARCELLUS. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord! 

 HAMLET. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. 

 Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 

Horatio

Marcellus

 MARCELLUS. How is’t, my noble lord? 

 HORATIO. What news, my lord? 

 HAMLET. O, wonderful! 

 HORATIO. Good my lord, tell it. 

 HAMLET. No, you’ll reveal it. 

 HORATIO. Not I, my lord, by heaven. 

 MARCELLUS. Nor I, my lord. 

 HAMLET. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?— But you’ll be secret? 

 HORATIO and MARCELLUS. Ay, by heaven, my lord. 

 HAMLET. There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he’s an arrant knave. 

 HORATIO. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. 

 HAMLET. Why, right; you are i’ the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desires shall point you,— For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is;—and for my own poor part, Look you, I’ll go pray. 

 HORATIO. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. 

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