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Horatio:

He waxes desperate with imagination.

Marcellus:

Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him.

Horatio:

Have after. To what issue will this come?

Marcellus:

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Horatio:

Heaven will direct it.

Marcellus:

Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt.]

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