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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE II. Enter Ophelia.

Pol.
Farewel. How now, Ophelia, what's the matter?

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

Pol.
With what, in the name of heav'n?

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 loose,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyred to his ancle;
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; thus 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;

-- 156 --


And with his other hand, thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long time 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,
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his Being. Then 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 help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol
Come, go with me, I will go seek the King.
This is the very ecstasie of love;
Whose violent property foregoes itself,
And leads the will to desp'rate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heav'n,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry;
What, have you giv'n him any hard words of late?

Oph.
No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
I did repel his letters, and deny'd
His access to me.

Pol.
That hath made him mad.
I'm sorry, that with better speed and judgment
6 noteI had not noted him. I fear'd, he trifl'd,
And meant to wreck thee; but beshrew my jealousy;
It seems, it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion. Come; go we to the King.

-- 157 --


7 note
This must be known; which, being kept close, might move
More grief to hide, than hate to utter love. [Exeunt.
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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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