BOTH.
My lord, from head to foot.
HAMLET.
Then saw you not his face?
HORATIO.
O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.
HAMLET.
What, look’d he frowningly?
HORATIO.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
HAMLET.
Pale, or red?
HORATIO.
Nay, very pale.
HAMLET.
And fix’d his eyes upon you?
HORATIO.
Most constantly.
HAMLET.
I would I had been there.