HAMLET         Indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch tonight?

HORATIO / BARNARDO / MARCELLUS      We do, my lord.

HAMLET         Armed, say you?

HORATIO / BARNARDO / MARCELLUS      Armed, my lord.

HAMLET         From top to toe?

HORATIO / BARNARDO / MARCELLUS      My lord, from head to foot.

HAMLET         Then saw you not his face.

HORATIO        O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.

HAMLET         What looked he – frowningly?

HORATIO        A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

HAMLET         Pale, or red?

HORATIO                                Nay, very pale.

HAMLET         And fixed his eyes upon you?

HORATIO                                Most constantly.        (1.2.222-233)

Hamlet realises that he’s being a bit prickly with these men, who have risked a great deal to come to tell him this: indeed, sirs, I know you’re telling me this with the best intentions (he doesn’t quite say that he believes them, though): but this troubles me. Well, yes. A shift: hold you the watch tonight? Are you on guard again? (It’s probably just Marcellus or Barnardo who replies here, or perhaps both together: we do, my lord.) Then Hamlet shifts again, going over what they’ve just told him: armed, say you? You’re saying that this ghost was armed, in armour? Armed, my lord, and this time they might all speak, speaking over each other in their eagerness to have him unequivocally believe them. Completely armed, is that what you’re saying? From top to toe? Another eager response, words tumbling: my lord, from head to foot. Totally armed. (Cap-à-pie, as they’ve said in the previous scene.) Hamlet thinks, perhaps, that he’s caught them out, or that they might be mistaken; he might just be thinking it through aloud: well, if he was completely armed, then saw you not his face. You can’t have. Horatio reassures: o yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up. His visor was raised; his face was perfectly visible. Perhaps this was characteristic of the old king, showing his face to the troops, perhaps there’s a swift smile of recognition and memory from Hamlet, even as he tests the evidence being laid before him. Hamlet pushes on with his cross-examination: what looked he—frowningly? Could you see his expression? A countenance more in sorrow than in anger, suggests Horatio (it’s a nice touch that the non-military, more subjective details are being left to him, not the soldiers.) He looked sad, not cross. And was he pale, or red? Did he look—ghostly? Or ruddy? (There’s a humoral thing being activated here: red, the colour of anger and choler, perhaps expectable for this warrior king; pallor, associated with a more phlegmatic temperament.) Horatio might consider, picturing it: nay, very pale. He was ghostly alright. And fixed his eyes upon you? Did he stare at you, fixedly, penetratingly? (Another detail that an audience might retrospectively impute to their recollection of the earlier episode.) Most constantly, says Horatio. Oh yes, he stared at us, at me, alright.