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Polonius: Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are most select and generous, chief in that.
Laertes: Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart …
Ophelia: 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
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being.
Hamlet: Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe.
Polonius: 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 closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac’d;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul’d …
Ghost: I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand an end …
Hamlet: My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve. GHOST beckons.
Still am I call’d. Unhand me, gentlemen, Breaking from them.
By heaven! I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me:
I say, away! Go on, I’ll follow thee. Exeunt GHOST and HAMLET.
