HAMLET

20. Ophelia's Songs

CUE:
(Enter Ophelia, distracted)
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Music by Kieran Verret
Gert. How now, Ophelia?
Lyrics by William Shakespeare
"How Should I Your True Love Know"

OPH: Distracted ( = 120)

 4
 4             
How should I your true love know From a no ther one?
5

             
By his cock le hat and staff, And his san dal shoon.

Gert. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

9 Oph. Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
 


10 OPH.:

              
He is dead and gone, la dy, He is dead and gone.
14
 
            

At his head, a grass green turf, At his heels, a stone.

18
Gert. Nay, but, Ophelia--
 Oph. Pray you, mark. 


19 OPH:

    
  
White his shroud as mount ain snow—

(Enter Claudius)
21
Gert. Alas, look here, my lord/ 
 


©2017 Lidark Music

 HAMLET 20. Ophelia's Songs, p. 2

22
  
   
lar ded with sweet flow'rs,

24
 
            
 
Which, be wept to the ground did not go. With true love

 
  
show'rs.
Claud. How do you, pretty lady?

Oph. Well, God 'ild 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!

Claud. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they
ask you what it means, say you this:
Manic ( = 100)
"Tomorrow
2 is Saint Valentine's Day"


                
To mor row is Saint Val en tines day, All in the morn be time. And

7
 
          
  
I, a maid, at your win dow, to be your Val en tine. Then

11

           
  
up he rose and donned his clothes And dupped the cham ber door. Let

15
  
          
 
in the maid, that out a maid Ne ver de par ted more.

©2017 Lidark Music

 HAMLET 20. Ophelia's Songs, p. 3

Claud. Pretty Ophelia!

Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

19 OPH:
   
           
  
By Gis and by Saint Char i ty, A lack and fie for shame, Young

24
 
           
 
men will do't if they come to't By Cock, they are to blame. Quoth

28 Oph. He answers:
 
            
  
she "Be fore you tum bled me, You prom ised me to wed." "So

33
 

       
      
I'd ha' done, by yon der sun, An' thou hadst not come to my bed.

Claudius: How long hath she been thus? ********************************************

********************************************
Oph.elia: I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I Laertes:.How now! what noise is that?
cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him
i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: (Re-enter Ophelia)
and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my
coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
good night, good night. Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
(Exit Ophelia) Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
******************************************** Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
******************************************** O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as moral as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

©2017 Lidark Music

HAMLET 20. Ophelia's Songs, p. 4
Slowly, Sadly ( = 80)
"They Bore Him Barefaced"

 3 OPH:         
 4        
They bore him bare faced on the bier, Hey non non ny, no ny, non

5
 
       
          
In his grave rained man y'a tear. Hey non non ny, non ny, non ny, non.

Oph. Fare you well, my dove.

Lae. Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge,

It could not move thus.

Oph. You must sing “A-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.

Lae. This nothing’s more than matter.

Oph.There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.

Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies,
that’s for thoughts.

Lae. A document in madness: thoughts and remembrance

fitted.

Oph. 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. You must wear
your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would
give you some violets, but they withered all when
my father died. They say he made a good end.

©2017 Lidark Music

 HAMLET 20. Ophelia's Songs, p. 5
"Bonny Sweet Robin"

OPH: Light (  = 80) 

 
  83    43    85  
For bon ny sweet Ro bin is all my joy.

In a sad 1 ( = 140)
"And Will He Not Come Again?"

 3 OPH:    
 4            
And will he not come a gain? And will he not come a gain?

9
  
        
No, no, he is dead. Go to thy death bed.

16
 
      
 
He ne ver will come a gain. His

20
   
          
beard was as white as snow, And flax en was his poll.

27
  
         

He is gone, is gone. And we cast a way moan.

34 heavy pause
  
      

God 'a mer cy on his soul.
(have)

©2017 Lidark Music