Enter HAMLET, HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

HAMLET         The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO        It is nipping, and an eager air.

HAMLET         What hour now?

HORATIO                                I think it lacks of twelve.

MARCELLUS   No, it is struck.

HORATIO                                Indeed, I heard it not.

It then draws near the season

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

A flourish of trumpets and two pieces goes off.

What does this mean, my lord?        (1.4.1-7)

Time has passed; it’s nighttime, and one of the three might have a lantern to establish this. Marcellus at least is probably wearing a big cloak, and the other two may be too The atmosphere is quickly taken back to that of the opening scene by Hamlet’s words: the air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. Bit nippy. Bites is more than nippy, though, it’s sharp, savage. Hamlet knows he’s stating the obvious (it is very cold), it’s more about the sense of hostility, danger. Horatio agrees, there’s a sense of making conversation, filling the silence: it is nipping, and an eager air. Yep, bit chilly alright. That wind’s got a real edge to it. They’ve been here for some time, perhaps: what hour now? asks Hamlet. He’s asked that already, before the scene began. Is it time yet, is it time yet? is part of the subtext, he’s less interested in the actual time that it is than whether this, now, is the time. No watches, they’re reliant on external signs, although Horatio has a go: I think it lacks of twelve. Not midnight yet. Not time yet. No, it is struck, observes Marcellus the sentry; it’s his job to notice things like that, not like these two students. It’s past midnight. The sound of a bell tolling twelve times for midnight becomes part of the prehistory of the scene. Ominous. Indeed, I heard it not, says Horatio, politely. Must have missed it. And he says what they’re all thinking: it then draws near the season wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. It’s almost the time that the ghost’s appeared before, then.

Brilliant writing: they’re all braced for the ghost’s appearance—any minute now—and it’s best if there’s a pause, before BANG! BANG! A flourish of trumpets and two pieces go off. A fanfare and two guns firing. (Better if it’s the guns, or cannon, first.) They can all jump, Horatio most, although Marcellus might be unconcerned, and Hamlet could look initially startled and then recover. What does this mean, my lord? asks Horatio, frightened as well as disconcerted. What’s going on?