Laurence Olivier
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Laurence Olivier |
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Hamlet. Farewell, dear mother. King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. Hamlet. My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. (IV,iii)  A young John Gielgud |
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 What is a man,If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? (IV,iv) |
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. (IV,v) |
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| Good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night. (IV,v) |
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When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions. (IV,v) |
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O my dear Gertrude, this Like to a murdering-piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death. (V,v) |
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There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; Pray, love, remember. And there is pansies, That's for thoughts. (IV,v) 
John W. Waterhouse: Ophelia |
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| O, you must wear your rue with a difference. (IV,v) |
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| Tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. (IV,vii) |
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And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And call it accident. (IV,vii) |
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A very riband in the cap of youth, Yet needful too. (IV,vii) |
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There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it. (IV,vii) |
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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. (IV,vii) 
Arthur Hughes: Ophelia |
Madeleine Lemaire: Ophelia |
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Hamlet page Act I Act II Act III Act V |
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Last updated 1 October 2001.
