ACT Two



    Enter Polonius (L.H.), meeting Ophelia. (R.H.)

    Pol. How now, Ophelia! What’s the matter?

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

    Pol. With what, in the name of Heaven?

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

    Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac’d;

    Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other,

    And with a look so piteous in purport,

    He comes before me.

    Pol. Mad for thy love?


    My lord, I do not know;

    But, truly, I do fear it.


    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 staid he so;

    At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,

    And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

    He rais’d a sigh so piteous and profound,

    As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,

    And end his being: That done, he lets me go:

    And, with his head over his shoulder turn’d,

    He seem’d to find his way without his eyes;

    For out o’doors he went without their helps,

    And, to the last, bended their light on me.

    Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king.

    This is the very ecstacy of love;

    What, have you given him any hard words of late?

    Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command,

    I did repel his letters, and denied

    His access to me.


    That hath made him mad.

    Come, go we to the king:

    This must be known; which, being kept close, might move

    More grief to hide than hate to utter love.


    [Exeunt L.H.]