Ophelia. [details]

[Picture: Ophelia.]

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A. Hughes, Pinxt. C. Cousin, Sculpt.

Ophelia is perhaps Hamlet’s former lover. She sits by the river plucking flowers one by one and worrying them in her hands; shortly afterwards she drowns herself. The text here is adapted from the Second Quarto edition; Hamlet must be in some other volume than the one I have.

Ophelia  There’s Rosemary, that’s for Remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is Pansies, that’s for Thoughts.
Laertes  A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Ophelia  There’s Fennell for you, and columbines. There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it Herb of Grace o ’Sundays. Oh you must wear your rue with a difference! There’s a daidy. I would give you some Violets, but they wither’d all when my Father died. They say, he made a good end.

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

Laertes  Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell itself, She turnes to Favour, and to prettiness.

    And will he not come again?
    And will he not come again?
    No, no, he is dead;
    Go to thy Death-bed;
    He never wil come again.
    His Beard was 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 n’ wi’ you.


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