My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber... ...Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced... ...no hat upon his head, his stockings fouled... ...ungartered, 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.