haste /
Doth make
the night
joint-labourer
with the
day: / Who
is’t that
can
informme?”
Horatio:“That
can I; /
At least,
the
whisper
goes so.
Our last
king, /
Whose
image even
but
nowappear’d
to us, /
Was, as
you know,
by
Fortinbras
of Norway,
/ Thereto
prick’d on
by a most
emulate
pride,
/Dar’d to
the
combat; in
which our
valiant
Hamlet— /
For so
this side
of our
known
world
esteem’d
him— /Did
slay this
Fortinbras;
who, by a
seal’d
compact, /
