HORATIO STREET
Just as in that opening seen of Hamlet, we are all
standing around, awaiting to see if that apparition
shall come again - cards and checkers, dominoes
and chess, anything stately like that will help us pass
the time. It's as, after all, almost always at night when
grand things transpire. Hie, Hie, Ho, Anon, what is this
thin figment I am seeing - a light like this, so faint, in
all this strengthened blackness and night? Fie, does it
move? Is that then what I am seeing? Good God man,
shall it also deign to talk? Like a wasp, it only hovers
when about to strike! My latitude is shrinking!
-
This house shall never know another, and within it here
alone I shall make my stand - to hide these many nights
as need to be before the shadowed apparition becomes
its human self again. What? No, then, what is it I am
saying? I wish for another presence? The ghost within
to become the ghost without? Around? Here? No!
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