Hamlet by William Shakespeare
page 58 of 226 (25%)
page 58 of 226 (25%)
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With what, i' the name of God?
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber, Lord Hamlet,--with his doublet all unbrac'd; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ungart'red, 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,-- |
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