OPHELIA
TEXT


fragment no. 1
warming up of actress / prologue

There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

W. Shakespeare "Hamlet" Act IV Scene VII (Gertrude)


fragment no. 2
red mittens / encircling / dialogue

To-morrow 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 chamber-door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
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 promised me to wed.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

W. Shakespeare "Hamlet" Act IV Scene V (Ophelia - sings)


fragment no. 3
red mittens / masturbation / poontang

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 raised a sigh so piteous and profound
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being.

W. Shakespeare "Hamlet" Act II Scene I (Ophelia)


fragment no. 4
grovelling / two hearts / stream of blood

How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
White his shroud as the mountain snow,--
Larded with sweet flowers
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.

W. Shakespeare "Hamlet" Act IV Scene V (Ophelia - sings)


fragment no. 5
barefoot Ophelia and her shoes / good night...

I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I
cannot choose but weep, to think...
Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
good night, good night.

W. Shakespeare "Hamlet" Act IV Scene V (Ophelia)


fragment no. 6
on tabouret / stream of awareness / mad monologue

verbal improvisation live


fragment no. 7
alone in the stream / epilogue

Oh, for a long time I'll recline
In a glassy water, in a seaweed net
Before finally I'll realize
That I wasn't loved, just like that

M. Pawlikowska-Jasnorzewska "Ophelia"
Translated by Jacek Katański.