Page:Hamlet - The Arden Shakespeare - 1899.djvu/69

 Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile. This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any moment's leisure, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.

Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt.

Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.

Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is struck.

Hor. Indeed? I heard it not: it then draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord?