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Texto del Guión Gráfico
- Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me! 87I say, away!—Go on. I’ll follow thee.
- What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord? Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff, That beetles o’er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible formWhich might deprive your sovereignty of reasonAnd draw you into madness?
- Heaven will direct it
- Nay, lets follow him
- Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak. I’ll go no further.
- My hour is almost comeWhen I to sulf’rous and tormenting flames, Must render up myself
- Alas, poor ghost! Speak. I am bound to hear.
- Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearingTo what I shall unfold.
- I am thy father’s spirit.Doomed for a certain term to walk the night And for the day confined to fast in firesTill the foul crimes done in my days of nature,Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbidTo tell the secrets of my prison house,I could a tale unfold whose lightest wordWould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood
- Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fearful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not beTo ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love
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