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Hamlet. Macbeth / Гамлет. Макбет
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Farewell.
[Exit Reynaldo]
[Enter Ophelia]
How now, Ophelia, what's the matter?
Ophelia
Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted.
Polonius
With what, in the name of God?
Ophelia
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.
Polonius
Mad for thy love?
Ophelia
My lord, I do not know, but truly I do fear it.
Polonius
What said he?
Ophelia
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,
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 help,
And to the last bended their light on me.
Polonius
Come, go with me. I will go seek the King
This is the very ecstasy of love,
Whose violent property fordoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, —
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Ophelia
No, my good lord; but as you did command,
I did repel his letters and denied
His access to me.
[Exit Reynaldo]
[Enter Ophelia]
How now, Ophelia, what's the matter?
Ophelia
Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted.
Polonius
With what, in the name of God?
Ophelia
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.
Polonius
Mad for thy love?
Ophelia
My lord, I do not know, but truly I do fear it.
Polonius
What said he?
Ophelia
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,
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 help,
And to the last bended their light on me.
Polonius
Come, go with me. I will go seek the King
This is the very ecstasy of love,
Whose violent property fordoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, —
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Ophelia
No, my good lord; but as you did command,
I did repel his letters and denied
His access to me.
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