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

Oph.
O, my Lord, my Lord! I have been so afrighted—

Pol.
With what?

Oph.
My Lord, as I was reading in my closet,
Prince Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd,
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other—
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,
And with his other hand thus o'er his brow
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it: 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 of doors he went, without their help,
And to the last bended their light on me* ^note.

Pol.
This is the very extacy of love—
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 deny'd
His access to me.

Pol.
That hath made him mad:—
Come, go with me to the King,
This must be known.
Come, come away. [Exeunt.

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