I will not speak with her.
I will not speak with her.
I won't see her.
no
She is importunate, indeed distract.
Her mood will needs be pitied.
She is importunate, indeed distract. Her mood will need be pitied.
You should see her. She's in pain. She needs someone.
she needs you she's hurting
What would she have?
What does she want?
What does she need?
what does she want
She speaks much of her father; says she hears
There’s tricks i’ th’ world, and hems, and beats her heart,
Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
’Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
How should I your true love know from another one? By his cockle hat and staff, and his sandal shoon.
I don't know who loves me anymore. How can I tell true love from false?
how do i know who loves me true from false
Let her come in.
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Ophelia, what is this?
ophelia what is this
Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
Where is the beautiful queen of Denmark?
Where is the queen?
where is the queen
How now, Ophelia?
Ophelia, what's wrong?
Ophelia? What is it?
ophelia
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff
And his sandal shoon.
How do you know your true love from anyone else? By his pilgrim's hat and staff and his sandals.
How do you tell your true love from anyone else? By his pilgrim's outfit, his hat and his shoes.
how do you know your true love from anyone else
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oh, sweetheart, what does this song mean?
What are you singing about?
what song is this
Say you? Nay, pray you mark.
What do you mean? No, pay attention.
Listen. Listen to me.
listen listen to me
Nay, but Ophelia—
But Ophelia—
Ophelia—
ophelia
Pray you mark.
Listen.
Listen.
listen
Alas, look here, my lord!
Oh, look, my lord!
My lord, look at her!
look at her
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did not go
With true-love showers.
Covered in sweet flowers, which no true-love tears watered at the grave.
Covered with flowers. But no one cried for him. No true tears.
covered in flowers but no one wept no true tears
How do you, pretty lady?
How are you, my lady?
How are you feeling?
how are you
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!
God reward you. There's an old story about an owl that was a baker's daughter. We know what we are, but we don't know what we might become. God bless your table.
God bless you. They say an owl used to be a baker's daughter. We know who we are now. But we don't know who we'll become. God be with you.
we know what we are but we don't know what we might be God bless
Conceit upon her father.
She's thinking about her father.
She's thinking about her father.
she's thinking about her father
Pray you, let’s have no words of this; but when they ask you what it
means, say you this:
Please, don't talk about it. But when they ask you what it means, tell them this:
Don't say anything. But when they ask what it means, tell them this:
don't talk about this just tell them
Ophelia's mad scene is built on a deceptively simple structure: she cannot say what has happened to her, so she sings it. The first song (the pilgrim-lover) is about a man gone away and possibly not returning — almost certainly about Hamlet. The Valentine's Day song is about a girl who gives herself to a man on the assumption of marriage and is not given that marriage — this is the most direct statement Ophelia makes about her relationship with Hamlet, and she can only make it in a form that gives her deniability. The 'will he not come again' song at the end is purely about Polonius — no displacement, no code, just the question a daughter asks: will my father come back? The flower distribution follows its own precise logic: rosemary (remembrance) for Laertes; pansies (thoughts) for Laertes; fennel and columbines (flattery and ingratitude) possibly for Claudius; rue (sorrow/repentance) for Gertrude and for herself; no violets because they withered. Each assignment is specific and meaningful. Ophelia in her madness is not random — she is incapable of the social pretense that would make her say normal things, and so she says only what she means, but sideways, through forms that protect her and destroy everyone who hears them.
Pretty Ophelia!
Pretty Ophelia.
Ophelia.
ophelia
Indeed la, without an oath, I’ll make an end on’t.
Yes, I'll end it now without an oath.
I'll end it now.
i'll end it
How long hath she been thus?
How long has she been like this?
How long has she been this way?
how long has this been going on
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.
I hope everything will be all right. We must be patient. But I can't help crying, thinking about him in the cold ground. My brother will know about it. Thank you for your advice. Come, my carriage! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.
Everything will be all right. We have to wait. But I keep thinking about him in that cold ground. My brother will find out. Thank you for everything. I need my carriage. Good night. Good night, everyone. Good night.
he's in the cold ground i can't stop crying my brother will know good night good night goodbye
Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
Follow her closely. Watch her carefully, I beg you.
Follow her. Keep a close eye on her.
watch her follow her
Claudius's handling of Laertes in this scene is the most technically impressive performance in the play. Laertes enters with a mob, having overrun the Swiss guard, ready to commit treason and risk damnation for his father's death. He is, at this moment, genuinely dangerous — not to Claudius's person, perhaps, but to Claudius's political position. Claudius's response is to refuse to be afraid. 'There's such divinity doth hedge a king' — he invokes divine right not as theology but as a rhetorical posture of confidence. Then he meets Laertes's fury with openness: 'let him demand his fill.' Then he offers an investigation — 'choose whom your wisest friends you will' — that is designed to redirect, not satisfy. By the end of the scene, Laertes's rage has been channeled toward the correct target (from Claudius's perspective): Hamlet. This is how Claudius operates. He does not suppress the anger — he directs it. Laertes leaves the scene as Claudius's weapon rather than his enemy. The conversion takes about forty lines.
Alack, what noise is this?
What's that noise?
What was that?
what was that
Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
Where are my Swiss guards? Let them guard the doors.
Where are my guards? Seal the doors.
guards lock the doors
Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O’erbears your offices. The rabble call him lord,
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word,
They cry ‘Choose we! Laertes shall be king!’
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds,
‘Laertes shall be king, Laertes king.’
Save yourself, my lord. Young Laertes is charging toward you like the ocean sweeping everything away. The crowd follows him as if the world just began and they've forgotten everything about law and order. They're chanting 'Let's choose a king! Let Laertes be king!' Cheering, clapping, shouting it to the sky.
Run, my lord. Laertes is storming in like a tidal wave. The people are following him like he's the only thing that matters. Everyone's yelling 'Laertes for king! Choose Laertes!'
laertes is coming with a mob shouting his name for king
How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
How eagerly they follow the false trail! You treacherous Danish dogs.
Look how fast they turn on us. Traitors, all of you.
traitors all of you turning
The doors are broke.
The doors are broken.
They've broken through.
they're in
Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
Danes.
No, let’s come in.
Where is the king? Everyone, wait outside. No—come in with me.
Where is he? Stand back—wait, come with me.
where is the king follow me
I pray you, give me leave.
Let me go alone, I ask you.
Let me go alone.
let me go
We will, we will.
We will.
All right.
yes
I thank you. Keep the door. O thou vile king,
Give me my father.
I thank you. Guard the door. You vile king—give me my father.
Guard the door. You—give me my father back.
give me my father right now
Calmly, good Laertes.
Be calm, Laertes.
Laertes, please—calm down.
please be calm
That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard;
Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
Even here between the chaste unsmirched brow
Of my true mother.
If my blood stays calm, it means I'm a bastard, not his son. It calls my father a cuckold and brands my mother a whore right here, in front of everyone.
If I stay calm, I'm not his son. I'm calling him a cuckold and my mother a whore.
i'm not calm i'm not his son if i don't rage
What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There’s such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incens’d.—Let him go, Gertrude:—
Speak, man.
What's wrong, Laertes? Why are you so angry? Let him go, Gertrude. Don't be afraid. A king has such divine protection that treason can only look at what it wants to do—it cannot act. Tell me, Laertes—why are you so enraged? Let him go, Gertrude. Speak, Laertes.
Laertes, why are you so furious? Let go of him, Gertrude—I'm not afraid. God has protected kings. Treason can only dream about what it wants—it can't actually do anything. Laertes, tell me what's wrong.
i'm protected there's divinity in a king treason can only watch it cannot act
Where is my father?
Where is my father?
Where is my father?
where is my father
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
dead
But not by him.
But not by me.
But not by me.
not by us
Let him demand his fill.
Let him ask whatever he wants.
Ask what you will.
ask whatever you want
How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with.
To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
That both the worlds, I give to negligence,
Let come what comes; only I’ll be reveng’d
Most throughly for my father.
How did he die? I won't be fooled. I curse all loyalty. I break my vows. Conscience, grace—I consign them to hell. I don't care what damnation costs. I swear this: I give up both this world and the next. Whatever comes, comes. I only want one thing: complete revenge for my father.
How did he die? Don't lie to me. I don't care about loyalty or vows anymore. Conscience—forget it. Grace—gone. I'll do anything. I give everything up. All I want is to kill whoever did this.
i curse everything loyal or vows or conscience all of it gone i want revenge that's all
Who shall stay you?
Who could stop you?
Who would stop you?
who could stop you
Shakespeare has given Hamlet seven soliloquies to explore his grief. Ophelia gets none. She has no moment of private reflection, no direct address to the audience, no space to explain what she feels. Everything she experiences is filtered through her relationships — first Polonius, then Hamlet, then the court that surrounds her. When her father dies, there is no language adequate to what has happened, so language itself breaks. The songs are not a symptom of breakdown — they are the most honest communication Ophelia has ever been able to make. In a court built on pretense, in a relationship (with Hamlet) built on performed emotion, in a family structure (with Polonius) built on obedience, she has never been able to say what she actually thinks. Madness gives her the only freedom she gets. The tragedy is that she gets it too late, and no one in the court can hear her. They listen, they observe, they find it politically dangerous — but no one sits with her and asks: what happened to you?
My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
Only my own will. And I'll use my resources so carefully that little goes a long way.
My own judgment. And I'll make my money stretch.
only me my will my way
Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is’t writ in your revenge
That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
Good Laertes—if you want to know exactly how your father died, should your revenge just sweep everyone away without asking who's guilty? Friend or foe?
Laertes, if you want to know the truth about your father—wouldn't you want to know who actually did it before you kill everyone?
don't you want to know who really did it before you kill
None but his enemies.
Only his enemies.
Only the guilty.
only them
Will you know them then?
Will you let me tell you who they are?
Let me show you who.
let me tell you
To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms;
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.
To my father's true friends, I'll open my arms wide like a pelican, and feed them with my own blood.
I'll hold his friends close like a pelican nourishing its young with its own blood.
i'll hold them close i'll give everything
Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father’s death,
And am most sensibly in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgement ’pear
As day does to your eye.
Now you sound like a true son and a gentleman. I'm innocent of your father's death, and I grieve sincerely for it. You'll see this as clearly as you see daylight.
Now you sound like a good man. I had nothing to do with your father's death. You'll see I'm telling the truth.
i'm innocent i grieve with you you'll see
How now! What noise is that?
What's that noise?
What was that?
what's that
They bore him barefac’d on the bier,
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny
And on his grave rain’d many a tear.—
Fare you well, my dove!
They carried him to the grave without a coffin, hey nonny nonny, and rain fell on his grave like tears. Goodbye, my love.
They carried him bare to the grave, hey nonny nonny, and tears fell on his grave. Goodbye, my dove.
they carried him bare rains fell tears fell goodbye
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
If you had your wits, I couldn't be more moved by a plea for revenge.
If you were sane, nothing could move me more.
if you were sane nothing would move me more
You must sing ‘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.
You must sing 'Down, down,' and how the wheel fits the song! It's about a steward who stole his master's daughter.
Sing down, down—it fits the wheel so well. It's about the steward who stole his master's daughter.
sing down down the steward stole the daughter
This nothing’s more than matter.
This nonsense means more than sense.
This madness means everything.
this madness means more than reason
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray love, remember. And
there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
Here's rosemary—that means remember. Please, remember me. And here are pansies—for thoughts.
Rosemary—remember. And pansies—for thoughts.
rosemary remember pansies for thoughts
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Even in madness, she speaks wisdom—thoughts and remembrance fit together like a perfect message.
Even in her madness, she's perfect—thoughts and memory together.
even mad she's perfect thoughts and memory
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.
Fennel for you, and columbines. Rue for you, and here's some for me. We call it the herb of grace. You have to wear your rue differently than I do. Here's a daisy. I would give you violets, but they all died when my father died. They say he had a good death.
Fennel and columbines for you. Rue—here's some for me too. That's the herb of grace. Your rue is different from mine. I'd give you violets, but they died when he did. They said he died well.
fennel rue violets all dead like him he had a good death
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself
She turns to favour and to prettiness.
Her pain and madness, even hell itself, she transforms into beauty and grace.
She turns all her pain and madness into something beautiful.
she turns pain into beauty madness into grace
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death-bed,
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 ha’ mercy on his soul.
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b’ wi’ ye.
Will he never come again? And will he never come again? No, he's dead. Go to your grave. He'll never come back. His beard was white as snow, his head was completely gray. He's gone, he's gone. We've lost him. God have mercy on his soul. I pray God's mercy on all Christian souls. God bless you.
Will he come back? No, he's dead. Go to your grave. He won't come back. His beard was white as snow. He's gone. We've lost him. God have mercy on his soul and on all of us. Goodbye.
will he come back no he's dead gone gone god have mercy goodbye
Do you see this, O God?
Do you see this, God?
God, are you watching?
god are you watching
Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touch’d, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours
To you in satisfaction; but if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labour with your soul
To give it due content.
Laertes, I must hear your grief, or you deny me the right. Choose your wisest friends to judge between us. If they find I had any hand in this—direct or indirect—I'll give you my kingdom, my crown, my life, everything I have. But if not, be patient with me, and we'll work together to give your grief what it deserves.
Laertes, I need to answer for this. Pick your wisest friends to decide between us. If I had anything to do with your father's death, take everything—my kingdom, my crown, my life. But if I didn't, help me grieve with you.
if i'm guilty take everything my crown my kingdom my life if not justice will come
Let this be so;
His means of death, his obscure burial,—
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o’er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation,—
Cry to be heard, as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call’t in question.
All right. But his death is mysterious, and his burial was secret—no honor, no sword, no ceremony, nothing. His bones cry out for justice, as if from heaven to earth. I have to demand answers.
Fine. But his death is hidden, and his burial was shameful—no ceremony, no honor. That demands an answer.
his death no ceremony no honor that demands an answer
So you shall.
And where th’offence is let the great axe fall.
I pray you go with me.
You will have answers. And the guilty will be punished. Come with me.
You'll get answers. And justice will follow. Come.
justice will come let's go
The Reckoning
Ophelia's madness is not performed — it is genuine, and it is worse than Hamlet's calculated behavior because it is total. She cannot speak to what has happened to her: her father is dead at the hands of the man she loved, and she is entirely alone in a court that would rather she not exist. So she sings. The songs are not random — they are precisely chosen, and every one of them means something specific. The bawdy song about a maid who gave herself to her lover and was abandoned: this is about Hamlet. The song about a father mourned inadequately: this is about Polonius. She distributes flowers whose meanings are as precise as words, and the court cannot respond because they don't know what to do with a grief that won't be managed. Then Laertes bursts in, all military fury, and is destroyed the moment he sees his sister. Claudius is masterful in this scene — he talks Laertes down with practiced sympathy, invites him to investigate the matter properly, and thereby co-opts him before Laertes can make any independent moves. The villain is at his most effective here. And Ophelia, who is not villainous but simply ruined, is the casualty that drives the mechanism.
If this happened today…
A young woman's father has been killed and her boyfriend institutionalized. She shows up to the family firm's board meeting and hands out flowers to each board member — different ones to different people — while singing fragments of songs about betrayal and loss. No one can stop her because no one knows what she is actually saying. Her brother storms in, ready to sue everyone. The CEO defuses him, invites him to a 'proper investigation,' and turns the brother's anger toward the same target the CEO needs eliminated. The young woman exits into the garden.