_Ghost_. My hour is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
_Hamlet_. Alas, poor ghost!
_Ghost_. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
_Hamlet_. Speak; I am bound to hear.
_Ghost_. So art thou to revenge, when thou shall hear.

This picturing of the torments of hell--how very characteristic! It
is forbidden to the Ghost to communicate to 'ears of flesh and blood'
the secrets of its fiery prison-house. Yet it knows how to tell enough
of the horrors of that gruesome place to make the hair of a stronger
mortal than Hamlet is, stand on end, 'like quills upon the fretful
porcupine.'

With masterly hand, the poet depicts the distance which henceforth
separates Hamlet's course of thought from that of his friends who have
remained on the firm ground of human reason. Hamlet cannot say more
than--

that there's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
But he's an arrant knave.

When Horatio answers that 'there needs no ghost, my lord, come from
the grave to tell us this,' [5] Hamlet asks his friends to shake hands
with him and part, giving them to understand that every man has his
own business and desire, and that--

for my own poor part,