HORATIO: Do not, my lord!
MARCELLUS: You shall not go, sir!
HAMLET: Let go of me!
My fate calls me and turns every nerve in my body to steel. Unhand me, gentlemen!
I swear I’ll make a ghost out of the man who tries to stop me!
Go on. I’ll follow you.
HORATIO: Go after him. But where will it all end? What does this all mean?
MARCELLUS: It means that something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
HORATIO: Then we should leave it in God’s hands.
MARCELLUS: No, let’s follow him.