MARCELLUS   Look with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removed ground,

But do not go with it.

HORATIO                    No, by no means.

HAMLET         It will not speak: then I will follow it.

HORATIO        Do not, my lord.

HAMLET         Why, what should be the fear?

I do not set my life at a pin’s fee,

And for my soul – what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again. I’ll follow it.           (1.4.60-68)

Look with what courteous action it waves you to a more removed ground, says Marcellus. This is a polite ghost, doing a bit of a royal wave, as it indicates that Hamlet should go with it somewhere more private. (Lovely implicit stage direction; a challenge for the Ghost if he’s wearing armour is not to CLANK too much, and so courteous, graceful, perhaps slow and deliberate gestures are a good idea.) But do not go with it, adds Marcellus. Bad idea to follow ghosts, even polite ones. No, by no means, Horatio interjects: whatever you do, don’t go with the Ghost. (Hamlet is always going to go with the Ghost, but this is creating suspense and fear, far more than if the Ghost spoke straight away, to all of them, right there.) It will not speak: then I will follow it. I don’t have a choice, Hamlet says; it’s clearly not going to say anything here. I’ve got to do as it says, and go with it. (Referring to the Ghost throughout as it is a nice choice, adding wariness, a sense of its otherness.)

Do not, my lord! protests Horatio, becoming (as he tends to do) more formal with his friend the prince when the stakes are higher. But Hamlet’s made his mind up: why, what should be the fear? what is there to be afraid of? (He’s allowed to be being ironic there, a crooked smile: what on earth could be frightening about going alone to a secluded place with something that seems to be my father’s ghost?) I don’t care anymore, he adds, in explanation; I do not set my life at a pin’s fee, a reminder that he’s already spoken at length of his despair and grief, his indifference to whether he lives or dies. A pin is, in early modern usage, the representative trivial, near-worthless thing, ubiquitous in fastening clothes, highly disposable, barely noticeable. And for my soul—what can it do to that, being a thing immortal as itself? If I die—well, my soul will live on, like the Ghost. Nothing can kill my soul! (This is mostly bravado, rather than an existential or theological statement, although there’s room for a glance, a smile at Horatio: we had a lecture about that, remember? in our other life, in Wittenberg?) I’m not afraid, and I don’t care if I die.

I’m going to speak to it. It waves me forth again. I’ll follow it.