Woodward Shakespeare Festival
Scenes 1-4 - The aftermath
Scene 5 - The "Mad" scene
We will ship him hence; and this vile deed
We must with all our majesty and skill
Both coutnenance and excuse.
And in this brainish apprehension kills
The unseen good old man.
I have sent to seek him and to find the body.
How dangerous it is that this man goes loose!
Not where he eats but where he is eaten. A
certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service - two dishes, but to one table.
We go to gain a little patch of ground
That hath in it no profit but the name.
By license Fortinbras craves the conveyance of a promis'd march over this kingdom.
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staf,
and his sandal shoon.
Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
Her speech is nothing,
Ye the unshaped use of it doth move
the hearers to collection.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Pray you, let's have no words of this...
Where is this king? O thou vile king,
Give me my father!
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All the morning betime,
and I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame,
Young men will do't, if they com to't
By cock, they are to blame.
O heat, dry up my brains. Tears seven times salt
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
by heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight
Til our scale turn the beam.
O rose of May!
Dear maid - kind sister - sweet Ophelia -
O heavens, ist possible a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
You must sing 'A-down a-down'
It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray love, remember; and there's pansies, that's for thoughts.
So you shall.
And where the offence is let the great axe fall
Scene 7 - Planning Hamlet's death
But let him come;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
'Thus didest thou.'
So have I a noble father lost
A sister driven into desperate terms...
But my revenge will come.
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet!
I'll touch my point '
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice
Requite him for your father.
One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
There is a willow grows aslant a brook...
There with fantastic garlands did she come...
An envious sliver broke,
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook.
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.
Photos by John Sanchez
with additional photos by
Arlene and Dick Schulman