"Is this a prologue or a posy of a ring?" Neither, really, but please read: Ophelia's point of view during ("Lady shall I lie in your lap", the play). This is sort of a sequel to my story Betrayal which is Ophelia's point of view in III.I ("Get thee to a nunnery"). It isn't exactly necessary to read that one but I would advise it. Really, if you want to read it, read it first.
Again, this is using the blocking and cuts in our production, and as before, the words in italics are actual quotes by William Shakespeare. Please let me know what you think of this and my companion work
Upon entering the area where the performance is about to take place I immediately scurry to the uppermost seat. I pray that Lord Hamlet has not noticed me as I silently rue our previous encounter. I am still inexplicably drawn to him but however coarsely our relationship was severed it must remain that way for now. Before I can wallow too deeply in my regrets, the velvet voice of his highness catches my attention as he addresses his nephew with strained warmth.
"Excellent, I' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air," Is the reply and the crazed Lord suddenly leaps about plucking invisible delicacies from the empty space above him, illustrating his nonsensical response.
Only a few seconds of conversation and already The King's temper threatens to break through chinks in his sly composure. All traces of his forced smile have been erased from his stony visage.
"I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine" The regal tone is glacial but his commanding ambiance is repelled by the cocoon of insanity that shrouds Lord Hamlet from the possible repercussions of disrespect.
He all but openly mocks the King once again then abruptly turns towards our guests, querying about the readiness of the players. Her highness—who has been silent up to this point—requests he come sit by her. The bravery of this proposal is commendable considering his delicate mental state but he brushes past her to, declining the offer.
"No, good mother, here's metal more attractive" As he says this he turns away from her and I am suddenly the object of unnervingly sultry scrutiny. I shrink, pressing my back into my seat, willing myself to fold up. I am dimly aware of my father saying something but it is muffled by the blood pulsing through my ears as Lord Hamlet draws nigh.
"Lady, shall I lie in your lap?" He asks and I sense a dangerous implication. I am right because—in front of the entire court—he literally attempts to sit on me before he is even finished speaking. We are nose to nose when a surge of panicked adrenaline allows me to fight his brazen action and push him, desperately trying to extrapolate myself all but shrieking
"No, my lord" I have never been so mortified. I feel warmth rise and appear on my cheeks but I don't even have a moment to calm myself as he recovers swiftly
"I mean, my head upon your lap?" He amends, leaning back until his head actually does rest in my lap. He did not wait for my acquiescence. I freeze and splutter, flushing darker still.
"Ay, my lord"
"Did you think I meant country matters?" With this statement he mercifully brings his head up. Although he does not appear to address anyone in particular, he says it oddly and I get the feeling that there is an underlying meaning to it. However, I was wrong in assuming he was not directing it anywhere as he stares at me expectantly.
"I think nothing, my lord"
"That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs." Once more that suggestive tone creeps into his voice and I am positive there is something I am missing. I am burning up, like the last time we met. I feel something on my shin…
"What is my lord?" I blurt, caught off guard by his brash vagueness again. But I am suddenly distracted by the sensation which is now on my knee. I finally register what it is a moment before I look down and sure enough he is slowly walking his fingers up my leg. Just as he gets to the hem of my dress I slap his hand away in alarm.
"Nothing"
"You are merry, my lord" I try and make that as much of an admonishment as I dare; endeavouring to make it appear as though my patience is wearing thin, but it's mainly my nerves.
"What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks and my father died within's two hours." He says. However; a strange inaccuracy in his statement draws my attention.
"Nay, tis twice two months, my lord" I correct. The amount of jargon he is expelling is truly worrisome
"So long? O heavens!" He exclaims
I am saved from further harassment when 5 players rush on, delivering an introduction. They pause in choreographed poses, waiting for the King's assent but Lord Hamlet, in his lunacy, has grown impatient. He stands up as if to make advancement on them.
"Is this a prologue, or a posy of a ring?" He complains, a little too loudly. I am at my wits end and I feebly attempt to assuage his displeasure.
"Tis brief, my lord" I whisper irritably. He wheels around, so we're face to face.
"As woman's love" he spits. The heat within me flashes and I bow my head, unable to look him in the eye. The ignominy I already feel is fueled by his acid remark.
Two other players enter and begin delivering passionate vows. It is quite enthralling, and I find it soothing to forget my predicament for even a little while. There is a dramatic hiatus and Lord Hamlet calls out
"Wormwood, wormwood" to presumably fill the silent stage which earns him some confused glances but the actors resume, unfazed. The plot begins to develop when he speaks up again, this time jumping to his feet hollering
"If she should break it now" I snap somewhat and in those few seconds of seeing nothing but scarlet, I reason that so many rules have been broken, I may as well break one more. I grip the arm closest to me and tug, yanking him downward.
He remains sitting, but not for long. When the actor playing the King goes to sleep he saunters over to the thrones and wedges himself in between their majesties. They chat for a little bit; I end up eavesdropping and would, admittedly, have continued to do so had the interlude not ended and the King directs his heir back towards his previous spot.
But no sooner has the murderer revealed himself to the audience does Lord Hamlet begin to crawl on his hands and knees past me, our guests and father until he is crouching behind the thrones. The scene is gruesome and as the theatrical deed is done, he speaks making his presence known. It shocks the King so much that he falls from his seat and for a split second I can see a mixed expression of horror, recognition and brutal malevolence before he straightens up and gets to his feet.
"The King rises" I announce, albeit unnecessarily. There is a chaotic commotion ensues, people yelling and we all scatter—apart from Horatio, who visits from Wittenberg and Lord Hamlet. In that moment, I fear we are all has mad as he.
After thoughts: So, as you may have guessed, the Ophelia I play is relatively innocent—for now. She doesn't really get everything Hamlet is saying but from bible studies etc. she gets you should not "lie" with someone else. She is sort of nearing the end of her tether here because he's making her really uncomfortable but again, the sexual tension meter is pinging like a fire bell. She probably feels it on some level but doesn't really have a name for it, or acknowledge it the way teens today would.
She also, as you probably picked on, notices things. Like strained warmth, I don't think she's stupid, I think she has very good intuitions, actually but she is sheltered from so much that she knows a lot more than she is lead to believe.
If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or if you want a good Shakespearian debate please let me know, I'd be more than happy to clear anything I can up for you. Again, I would also suggest reading Betrayal as it goes more in depth about how I feel about her in the description at the end and just generally expands on Ophelia as a person more.
Anon!