Act I

I warrant it will.

If it assume my noble father’s person,

I’ll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

If you have hitherto conceal’d this sight,

Let it be tenable in your silence still;

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,

Give it an understanding, but no tongue:

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:

Upon the platform, ’twixt eleven and twelve,

I’ll visit you.

Our duty to your honour.

Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

My father’s spirit in arms! all is not well;