GHOST: I am your father’s spirit, doomed for a certain period to walk the earth at night—
And be confined in the fires of purgatory by day, burning and purging my past sins.
If I were not forbidden to tell the secrets of my prison house, I could unfold a tale that would tear your soul, freeze your blood, make your eyes jump from their sockets, and set your hair on end like porcupine quills.
But this cannot be. Listen! Oh, listen! If you ever loved your father...
HAMLET: Oh God!
GHOST: Revenge his foul, unnatural murder.
GHOST: Murder most foul.