A Short Pasage
Barnardo: Who's there? Francisco: Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. Barnardo: Long live the King! Francisco: Bernardo. Barnardo: He. Francisco: You come most carefully upon your hour. Barnardo: 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. Francisco: For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. Barnardo: Have you had a quiet guard? Francisco: Not a mouse stirring. Barnardo: Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. Francisco: I think I hear them. Stand ho! Who is there? Horatio: Friends to this ground.
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