Pol. God be wi' you; fare you well. 69
Rey. Good my lord!
Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.
Rey. I shall, my lord. 72
Pol. And let him ply his music.
Rey. Well, my lord.
Pol. Farewell! Exit Reynaldo.
Enter Ophelia.
How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?
Oph. Alas! my lord, I have been so affrighted.
Pol. With what, in the name of God? 76
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; 80
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. 84
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, 88
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, 92
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
