Hamlet. Knowledge house

HAMLET

      Hold off your hands.

       HORATIO

      Be ruled; you shall not go.

       HAMLET

      My fate cries out,

       And makes each petty artery in this body

       As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

       Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.

       By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!

       I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee.

       Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET

       HORATIO

      He waxes desperate with imagination.

       MARCELLUS

      Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

       HORATIO

      Have after. To what issue will this come?

       MARCELLUS

      Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

       HORATIO

      Heaven will direct it.

       MARCELLUS

      Nay, let's follow him.

       Exeunt