Queen: I won't speak to her.
Gentlemen: She is mad and distracted. We need to pity her.
Queen: What does she want?
Gentlemen: She speaks mostly of her father.
Horatio: It was good she was spoken to because she might have influenced ill-thinking people.
Queen: Let her come in. Everything seems to foreshadow what is to come.
Ophelia: Where is the beautiful queen of Denmark?
Queen: How are you, Ophelia?
Ophelia:How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff And his sandal shoon.
Queen: Why do you sing that song?
Ophelia: What? No, you remember. He is dead and gone, my lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Queen: No, but Ophelia-
White his shroud as the mountain snow-
Queen: Look here.
Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.
King: How are you, pretty
Ophelia: We know what we are, but not what we may be.
King: Imagination about her father.
Ophelia: If they ask you what it means, say this:
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's Day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chambet door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
King: Poor Ophelia!
Ophelia: Here's the end.
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.
'Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.'
'So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.'
How long has she been like this?
Ophelia: I hope all will be well. We must be patient. I can't weep to see them lie him in the cold ground. My brother should know of this. Good night, ladies. Goodnight.
King: Follow her and watch her closely. Her craziness is due to her father's death. Gertrude, when someone grieves it comes all at once. First, her father is dead, and now Hamlet is gone. Her brother comes from France. He doesn't want anyone to know of his father's death yet.
Queen: What was that noise?
King: Where are my bodyguards? Let them guard the door.
Gentlemen: Laertes is very angry and is followed by a mob and men crying, 'Laertes king! Laertes king!'
Queen: How they speak wrongfully!
King: The doors are broken.
Laertes: Where is the king? -Stay there, men.
Danes: No, We'll come in.
Laertes: Please leave.
Danes: We will, we will.
Laertes: Thank you. Keep the door. You evil king! Give me my father!
Queen: Calm down, Laertes.
Laertes: If I'm calm then I'm a bastard, because I love my father so much I will do anything for him.
King: Why are you so angry? -Let him go, Gertrude. We have nothing to fear from him. -Why are you so angry? Tell me.
Laertes: Where is my father?
King: He is dead.
Queen: But not by him.
King: Let him satisfy himself.
Laertes: Why is he dead? Do not joke with me. Vows to the blackest devil! Give me my father!
King: Who will stop you?
Laertes: Not the whole world.
King: Do you want to know who killed your father? Is it in your revenge that that you will challenge whoever killed your father?
Laertes: I will challenge if they are my father's enemy.
King: Would you happen to be their friend?
Laertes: I would seem like a friend, then get them back for what they have done.
King: You sound normal now. I am innocent to your father's death, and I grieve for him. In just a little bit, everything will be clear as day.
Danes: Let her come in.
Laertes: What is that noise. Poor Ophelia! What has happened to her?
They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain'd many a tear-
I hope you are well, my dove!
It would not help her now to have wits.
Ophelia: You must sing 'A-down a-down,' and you 'Call him a-down-a.' It is the false steward that stole his master's daughter.
Laertes: This is not good.
Ophelia: Rosemary is for remembrance, this is for you. Pansies are for thought's, there you go.
Laertes: There is a lesson in madness.
Ophelia: There's a fennel for you, and a columbines. There's a rue for you, and here is some for me. There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but all of them withered when my father died. For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
Laertes: I wish she would go back to the way she was.
And will 'a not come again?
And will 'a 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!
God be with you all.
Laertes: God, do you see this?
King: Laertes, I grieve too, but you must move on. I promise you will have the chance to avenge your father.
Laertes: I hope so. I hate the way he was buried; not honorable to his name. I can't believe he was buried that way.
King: I don't blame you. Go with me, Laertes.