Speeches (Lines) for Ophelia in "The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark"

Total: 58
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# Act, Scene, Line Speech text
1 I, 3, 486
  • Do you doubt that?
  • Do you doubt that?
  • Laertes. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.
    And, sister, as the winds give benefit
    And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
    But let me hear from you.

    Ophelia. Do you doubt that?

2 I, 3, 493
  • No more but so?
  • No more but so?
  • Laertes. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
    Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
    A violet in the youth of primy nature,
    Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting;
    The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
    No more.

    Ophelia. No more but so?

3 I, 3, 529
  • I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep
    As watchman to my heart. But, go...
  • I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep
    As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
    Do not as some ungracious pastors do,
    Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
    Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
    Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads
    And recks not his own rede.
  • Laertes. Think it no more.
    For nature crescent does not grow alone
    In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,
    The inward service of the mind and soul
    Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
    And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
    The virtue of his will; but you must fear,
    His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
    For he himself is subject to his birth.
    He may not, as unvalued persons do,
    Carve for himself, for on his choice depends
    The safety and health of this whole state,
    And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
    Unto the voice and yielding of that body
    Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
    It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
    As he in his particular act and place
    May give his saying deed; which is no further
    Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
    Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
    If with too credent ear you list his songs,
    Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
    To his unmast'red importunity.
    Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
    And keep you in the rear of your affection,
    Out of the shot and danger of desire.
    The chariest maid is prodigal enough
    If she unmask her beauty to the moon.
    Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes.
    The canker galls the infants of the spring
    Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,
    And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
    Contagious blastments are most imminent.
    Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
    Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

    Ophelia. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep
    As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
    Do not as some ungracious pastors do,
    Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
    Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
    Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads
    And recks not his own rede.

4 I, 3, 572
  • 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
    And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
  • 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
    And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
  • Laertes. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well
    What I have said to you.

    Ophelia. 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
    And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

5 I, 3, 576
  • So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
  • So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
  • Polonius. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

    Ophelia. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

6 I, 3, 586
  • He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
    Of his affection to me.
  • He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
    Of his affection to me.
  • Polonius. Marry, well bethought!
    'Tis told me he hath very oft of late
    Given private time to you, and you yourself
    Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.
    If it be so- as so 'tis put on me,
    And that in way of caution- I must tell you
    You do not understand yourself so clearly
    As it behooves my daughter and your honour.
    What is between you? Give me up the truth.

    Ophelia. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
    Of his affection to me.

7 I, 3, 591
  • I do not know, my lord, what I should think,
  • I do not know, my lord, what I should think,
  • Polonius. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl,
    Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
    Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

    Ophelia. I do not know, my lord, what I should think,

8 I, 3, 597
  • My lord, he hath importun'd me with love
    In honourable fashion.
  • My lord, he hath importun'd me with love
    In honourable fashion.
  • Polonius. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby
    That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
    Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly,
    Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
    Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

    Ophelia. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love
    In honourable fashion.

9 I, 3, 600
  • And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
    With almost all the holy...
  • And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
    With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
  • Polonius. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to!

    Ophelia. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
    With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

10 I, 3, 623
  • I shall obey, my lord.
  • I shall obey, my lord.
  • Polonius. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know,
    When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
    Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter,
    Giving more light than heat, extinct in both
    Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
    You must not take for fire. From this time
    Be something scanter of your maiden presence.
    Set your entreatments at a higher rate
    Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
    Believe so much in him, that he is young,
    And with a larger tether may he walk
    Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,
    Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
    Not of that dye which their investments show,
    But mere implorators of unholy suits,
    Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
    The better to beguile. This is for all:
    I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth
    Have you so slander any moment leisure
    As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
    Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways.

    Ophelia. I shall obey, my lord.

11 II, 1, 1032
  • O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
  • O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
  • Polonius. Farewell!
    [Exit Reynaldo.]
    [Enter Ophelia.]
    How now, Ophelia? What's the matter?

    Ophelia. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

12 II, 1, 1034
  • My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
    Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unb...
  • 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,
    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. With what, i' th' 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,
    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.

13 II, 1, 1043
  • My lord, I do not know,
    But truly I do fear it.
  • My lord, I do not know,
    But truly I do fear it.
  • Polonius. Mad for thy love?

    Ophelia. My lord, I do not know,
    But truly I do fear it.

14 II, 1, 1046
  • He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
    Then goes he to the length of all...
  • 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. 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.

15 II, 1, 1067
  • No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
    I did repel his letters and denie...
  • No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
    I did repel his letters and denied
    His access to 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.

16 III, 1, 1731
  • Madam, I wish it may.
  • Madam, I wish it may.
  • Gertrude. I shall obey you;
    And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
    That your good beauties be the happy cause
    Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues
    Will bring him to his wonted way again,
    To both your honours.

    Ophelia. Madam, I wish it may.

17 III, 1, 1784
  • Good my lord,
    How does your honour for this many a day?
  • Good my lord,
    How does your honour for this many a day?
  • Hamlet. To be, or not to be- that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
    And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
    To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause. There's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life.
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
    The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office, and the spurns
    That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death-
    The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
    No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pith and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
    The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins rememb'red.

    Ophelia. Good my lord,
    How does your honour for this many a day?

18 III, 1, 1787
  • My lord, I have remembrances of yours
    That I have longed long to re-deliver....
  • My lord, I have remembrances of yours
    That I have longed long to re-deliver.
    I pray you, now receive them.
  • Hamlet. I humbly thank you; well, well, well.

    Ophelia. My lord, I have remembrances of yours
    That I have longed long to re-deliver.
    I pray you, now receive them.

19 III, 1, 1792
  • My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
    And with them words of so swe...
  • My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
    And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
    As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
    Take these again; for to the noble mind
    Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
    There, my lord.
  • Hamlet. No, not I!
    I never gave you aught.

    Ophelia. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
    And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
    As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
    Take these again; for to the noble mind
    Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
    There, my lord.

20 III, 1, 1799
  • My lord?
  • My lord?
  • Hamlet. Ha, ha! Are you honest?

    Ophelia. My lord?

21 III, 1, 1801
  • What means your lordship?
  • What means your lordship?
  • Hamlet. Are you fair?

    Ophelia. What means your lordship?

22 III, 1, 1804
  • Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
  • Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
  • Hamlet. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no
    discourse to your beauty.

    Ophelia. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

23 III, 1, 1809
  • Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
  • Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
  • Hamlet. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform
    honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can
    translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox,
    but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

    Ophelia. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

24 III, 1, 1813
  • I was the more deceived.
  • I was the more deceived.
  • Hamlet. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so
    inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you
    not.

    Ophelia. I was the more deceived.

25 III, 1, 1823
  • At home, my lord.
  • At home, my lord.
  • Hamlet. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of
    sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse
    me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.
    I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my
    beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give
    them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I
    do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all;
    believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your
    father?

    Ophelia. At home, my lord.

26 III, 1, 1826
  • O, help him, you sweet heavens!
  • O, help him, you sweet heavens!
  • Hamlet. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool
    nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.

    Ophelia. O, help him, you sweet heavens!

27 III, 1, 1833
  • O heavenly powers, restore him!
  • O heavenly powers, restore him!
  • Hamlet. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry:
    be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape
    calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt
    needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what
    monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too.
    Farewell.

    Ophelia. O heavenly powers, restore him!

28 III, 1, 1841
  • O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, scholar's, soldier'...
  • O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
    Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down!
    And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
    That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
    That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
    Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me
    T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
  • Hamlet. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath
    given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you
    amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your
    wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made
    me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are
    married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as
    they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit.

    Ophelia. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
    Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down!
    And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
    That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
    That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
    Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me
    T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

29 III, 2, 1994
  • No, my lord.
  • No, my lord.
  • (stage directions). [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.]

    Ophelia. No, my lord.

30 III, 2, 1996
  • Ay, my lord.
  • Ay, my lord.
  • Hamlet. I mean, my head upon your lap?

    Ophelia. Ay, my lord.

31 III, 2, 1998
  • I think nothing, my lord.
  • I think nothing, my lord.
  • Hamlet. Do you think I meant country matters?

    Ophelia. I think nothing, my lord.

32 III, 2, 2000
  • What is, my lord?
  • What is, my lord?
  • Hamlet. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

    Ophelia. What is, my lord?

33 III, 2, 2002
  • You are merry, my lord.
  • You are merry, my lord.
  • Hamlet. Nothing.

    Ophelia. You are merry, my lord.

34 III, 2, 2004
  • Ay, my lord.
  • Ay, my lord.
  • Hamlet. Who, I?

    Ophelia. Ay, my lord.

35 III, 2, 2008
  • Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.
  • Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.
  • Hamlet. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry?
    For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died
    within 's two hours.

    Ophelia. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.

36 III, 2, 2029
  • What means this, my lord?
  • What means this, my lord?
  • (stage directions). Exeunt.

    Ophelia. What means this, my lord?

37 III, 2, 2031
  • Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
  • Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
  • Hamlet. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief.

    Ophelia. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

38 III, 2, 2035
  • Will he tell us what this show meant?
  • Will he tell us what this show meant?
  • Hamlet. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel;
    they'll tell all.

    Ophelia. Will he tell us what this show meant?

39 III, 2, 2038
  • You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.
    Pro. For us, and for our...
  • You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.
    Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
    Here stooping to your clemency,
    We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.]
  • Hamlet. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to
    show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

    Ophelia. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.
    Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
    Here stooping to your clemency,
    We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.]

40 III, 2, 2043
  • 'Tis brief, my lord.
  • 'Tis brief, my lord.
  • Hamlet. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

    Ophelia. 'Tis brief, my lord.

41 III, 2, 2138
  • You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
  • You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
  • (stage directions). Enter Lucianus.This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.

    Ophelia. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

42 III, 2, 2141
  • You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
  • You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
  • Hamlet. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see
    the puppets dallying.

    Ophelia. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

43 III, 2, 2143
  • Still better, and worse.
  • Still better, and worse.
  • Hamlet. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

    Ophelia. Still better, and worse.

44 III, 2, 2152
  • The King rises.
  • The King rises.
  • Hamlet. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago.
    The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You
    shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

    Ophelia. The King rises.

45 IV, 5, 2880
  • Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
  • Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
  • (stage directions). Enter Ophelia distracted.

    Ophelia. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?

46 IV, 5, 2882
  • [sings]
    How should I your true-love know
    From another one?
  • [sings]
    How should I your true-love know
    From another one?
    By his cockle bat and' staff
    And his sandal shoon.
  • Gertrude. How now, Ophelia?

    Ophelia. [sings]
    How should I your true-love know
    From another one?
    By his cockle bat and' staff
    And his sandal shoon.

47 IV, 5, 2888
  • Say you? Nay, pray You mark.
    (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
    ...
  • Say you? Nay, pray You mark.
    (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
    He is dead and gone;
    At his head a grass-green turf,
    At his heels a stone.
    O, ho!
  • Gertrude. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

    Ophelia. Say you? Nay, pray You mark.
    (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
    He is dead and gone;
    At his head a grass-green turf,
    At his heels a stone.
    O, ho!

48 IV, 5, 2895
  • Pray you mark.
    (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-
  • Pray you mark.
    (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-
  • Gertrude. Nay, but Ophelia-

    Ophelia. Pray you mark.
    (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-

49 IV, 5, 2899
  • [Sings]
    Larded all with sweet flowers;
    Which bewept to the gra...
  • [Sings]
    Larded all with sweet flowers;
    Which bewept to the grave did not go
    With true-love showers.
  • Gertrude. Alas, look here, my lord!

    Ophelia. [Sings]
    Larded all with sweet flowers;
    Which bewept to the grave did not go
    With true-love showers.

50 IV, 5, 2904
  • Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
    Lord, we know...
  • Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
    Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at
    your table!
  • Claudius. How do you, pretty lady?

    Ophelia. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
    Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at
    your table!

51 IV, 5, 2908
  • Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what
    it means, say...
  • Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what
    it means, say you this:
    (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
    All in the morning bedtime,
    And I a maid at your window,
    To be your Valentine.
    Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
    And dupp'd the chamber door,
    Let in the maid, that out a maid
    Never departed more.
  • Claudius. Conceit upon her father.

    Ophelia. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what
    it means, say you this:
    (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
    All in the morning bedtime,
    And I a maid at your window,
    To be your Valentine.
    Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
    And dupp'd the chamber door,
    Let in the maid, that out a maid
    Never departed more.

52 IV, 5, 2919
  • Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
    [Sings] By Gis and by Sa...
  • Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
    [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
    Alack, and fie for shame!
    Young men will do't if they come to't
    By Cock, they are to blame.
    Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
    You promis'd me to wed.'
    He answers:
    'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
    An thou hadst not come to my bed.'
  • Claudius. Pretty Ophelia!

    Ophelia. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
    [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
    Alack, and fie for shame!
    Young men will do't if they come to't
    By Cock, they are to blame.
    Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
    You promis'd me to wed.'
    He answers:
    'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
    An thou hadst not come to my bed.'

53 IV, 5, 2930
  • I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
    choose but weep to...
  • I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
    choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground.
    My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good
    counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet
    ladies. Good night, good night. Exit
  • Claudius. How long hath she been thus?

    Ophelia. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
    choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground.
    My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good
    counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet
    ladies. Good night, good night. Exit

54 IV, 5, 3042
  • [sings]
    They bore him barefac'd on the bier
    (Hey non nony, non...
  • [sings]
    They bore him barefac'd on the bier
    (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony)
    And in his grave rain'd many a tear.
    Fare you well, my dove!
  • Laertes. How now? What noise is that?
    [Enter Ophelia. ]
    O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
    Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
    By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight
    Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
    Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
    O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits
    Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
    Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
    It sends some precious instance of itself
    After the thing it loves.

    Ophelia. [sings]
    They bore him barefac'd on the bier
    (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony)
    And in his grave rain'd many a tear.
    Fare you well, my dove!

55 IV, 5, 3049
  • You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O,
    how the wheel b...
  • You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O,
    how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his
    master's daughter.
  • Laertes. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
    It could not move thus.

    Ophelia. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O,
    how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his
    master's daughter.

56 IV, 5, 3053
  • There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
    remember. And ther...
  • There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
    remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
  • Laertes. This nothing's more than matter.

    Ophelia. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
    remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

57 IV, 5, 3056
  • There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,
    and here's some...
  • There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,
    and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.
    O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I
    would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father
    died. They say he made a good end.
    [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
  • Laertes. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted.

    Ophelia. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,
    and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.
    O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I
    would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father
    died. They say he made a good end.
    [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

58 IV, 5, 3064
  • [sings]
    And will he not come again?
    And will he not come again?...
  • [sings]
    And will he not come again?
    And will he not come again?
    No, no, he is dead;
    Go to thy deathbed;
    He never will come again.
    His beard was as white as snow,
    All flaxen was his poll.
    He is gone, he is gone,
    And we cast away moan.
    God 'a'mercy on his soul!
    And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi' you.
  • Laertes. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
    She turns to favour and to prettiness.

    Ophelia. [sings]
    And will he not come again?
    And will he not come again?
    No, no, he is dead;
    Go to thy deathbed;
    He never will come again.
    His beard was as white as snow,
    All flaxen was his poll.
    He is gone, he is gone,
    And we cast away moan.
    God 'a'mercy on his soul!
    And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi' you.

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