Page:Hamlet (1917) Yale.djvu/50

38

Pol. God be wi' you; fare you well.

Rey. Good my lord!

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.

Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his music.

Rey. Well, my lord.

Pol. Farewell!

How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?

Oph. Alas! my lord, I have been so affrighted.

Pol. With what, in the name of God?

Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd;

No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,

Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle;

Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;

And with a look so piteous in purport

As if he had been loosed out of hell

To speak of horrors, he comes before me.

Pol. Mad for thy love?

Oph. My lord, I do not know;

But truly I do fear it.

Pol. What said he?

Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard,

Then goes he to the length of all his arm,

And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;

At last, a little shaking of mine arm,

And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

 71 inclination in yourself: character for yourself

73 ply his music: go his own gait

77 closet: apartment

78 doublet: close-fitting coat

unbrac'd: unfastened

80 down-gyved: hanging down like gyves or fetters

90 perusal: scrutiny

