Horatio and Marcellus now came hurrying up, much alarmed for the safety of their young lord. They found him in a strange mood. The news he had heard from the Ghost had been such a shock to Hamlet that for the moment he seemed quite unstrung, and, not having yet made up his mind how to act, he did not feel inclined to confide to his companions what he had just been told. He therefore put off their questionings with flippant speeches, and dismissed them in a somewhat summary fashion. “How is it, my noble lord?” cried Marcellus. “What news, my lord?” asked Horatio. “Oh, wonderful!” said Hamlet. “Good my lord, tell it,” said Horatio. “No; you will reveal it.” “Not I, my lord, by heaven!” said Horatio, and Marcellus added: “Nor I, my lord.” “How say you then? Would heart of man once think it----But you’ll be secret?” “Ay, by heaven, my lord!” cried Horatio and Marcellus together. Hamlet lowered his voice to a tone of mysterious importance: “There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark but he’s an--arrant knave.” “There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave to tell us this,” said Horatio, hurt at Hamlet’s lack of confidence. “Why, right; you are in the right,” said Hamlet. “And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part, you as your business and desire 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.” “These are but wild and whirling words, my lord,” said Horatio, justly aggrieved. “I am sorry they offend you, heartily--yes, faith, heartily!” “There’s no offence, my lord,” said Horatio, rather stiffly. “Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, Horatio, and much offence, too,” returned Hamlet, but it was of the wrong done by his uncle he was thinking. “Touching this vision here, it is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. For your desire to know what is between us, overmaster it as you may. And now, good friends, as you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, give me one poor request.” “What is it, my lord? We will,” said Horatio. “Never make known what you have seen to-night.” “My lord, we will not.” “Nay, but swear it; swear by my sword.” And from underneath the ground sounded a solemn voice, “Swear!” Twice again they shifted their places, and each time from beneath the ground came the hollow voice, “Swear!” “O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!” marvelled Horatio. “And therefore as a stranger give it welcome,” said Hamlet. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” Then he made them swear that never, however strange or odd he bore himself, as he perchance hereafter should think meet to put on an antic disposition--that never at such times, seeing him, were they by word or sign to show that they knew anything, or with meaning nods and smiles pretend they could explain his strange behaviour if they chose. “Swear!” said the Ghost beneath.