Gwaine. Yea, mad! mad! stark raving mad, you say?
Dagonet. Yea, mad. His eyes were like balls ’o fire.
An’ his face fixed like he followed a vision,
Or walked ’i his sleep.
An’ his hands did beat the air the while he shouted a war song.
It hath frighted me out of a week’s sleep.
Gwaine. Yea, he is indeed mad. ’Tis this crazy love.
And he such a man, the best ’i the world.
I will take horse and follow him.
Drop that lanthorn, Fool, and help me wi’ this buskin,