HORATIO        What is’t, my lord? We will.

HAMLET         Never make known what you have seen tonight.

HORATIO / MARCELLUS      My lord, we will not.

HAMLET         Nay, but swear’t.

HORATIO        In faith, my lord, not I.

MARCELLUS                           Nor I, my lord, in faith.

HAMLET         Upon my sword.

MARCELLUS                           We have sworn, my lord, already.

HAMLET         Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

GHOST            (Cries under the stage.)         Swear.

HAMLET         Ha, ha, boy, sayst thou so? Art thou there, truepenny?

Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage?

Consent to swear.      (1.5.142-152)

What is’t, my lord? asks Horatio. Whatever you’re asking of us, we will, we’ll do it. Never make known what you have seen tonight: not a word, total secrecy; you can’t tell a soul. My lord, we will not: they’re adamant; it’s a straightforward request. Nay, but swear’t. I really need you to do this, to take it seriously, no backing out, says Hamlet. In faith, my lord, not I. I won’t say a word, I swear it, responds Horatio, right away. Nor I, my lord, in faith. Me neither. I swear it too. Swear upon my sword, says Hamlet, upping the stakes: he can hold out the handle to them, forming a cross for them to lay their hands on, a sacred oath before God. We have sworn, my lord, already, says Marcellus; there can be just a touch of, isn’t our word good enough for you, my honour as a soldier? But Hamlet’s stubborn: I know you have, and now I want you to do it again, indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Then—hooray, and the audience as well as all three of the characters should jump—SWEAR, says the Ghost, sounding spooky and scary as anything. (High risk of camp. Resist too much voice distortion.) And they can run in fear from the spot where his voice has sounded, Hamlet’s jumpy, chattering again: ha, ha, boy, sayst thou so? We heard you alright. Art thou there, truepenny? Truepenny is a good lad, honest currency—and (of course) the name of the mole in C. S. Lewis’s Narnia books… Horatio and Marcellus can be looking thoroughly rattled, casting around for the source of this subterranean boom, wondering if it’s creeping up on them (sometimes, though, it’s suggested that in fact they can’t hear the Ghost, that only Hamlet can.) Come on, says Hamlet, you hear this fellow in the cellarage? Didn’t you hear the guy in the basement? Consent to swear. DO IT.