Ophelia

You may think you know my story.

Many have told it.

It has long passed into history... into myth.

I have seen more of heaven and hell than most people dream of.

But I was always a willful girl

and followed my heart and spoke my mind.

And it is high time

I should tell you my story myself.

Mind out below!

Ophelia. Careful.

Is that mouse in your pocket again?

- Be quiet! - Laertes, I'm coming with you!

Don't!

- Go back, Ophelia! - But think of all the books!

So, students as well. Very sweet.

I'll teach you later.

Hush now, make ready for your studies.

- Watch out for dragons! - Dragons?

It's a shortcut.

Brace of rabbits for skinning.

- Ooh, little rascal! - Oi!

Ophelia!

- Don't! - Leave me. I want to see.

To Prince Hamlet!

Leaving us for the great University of Wittenberg.

Fifteen years old today.

Little more than a boy, little less than a man.

He insults the prince?

That's his uncle, the king's brother.

Apple of his mother's eye.

Of course, it was an apple that tempted a woman

in the Garden of Eden.

I had always thought it was a snake.

It was an apple of knowledge, and knowledge kills innocence

as surely as winter snow kills summer blooms.

Ophelia!

Then I fear for my son at university

where they will fill him with knowledge.

- To the prince! - To the prince!

May he someday rise from his mother's lap.

I think the apple is quite innocent in the matter.

Ophelia!

What is an Ophelia?

Your Majesty, it is a child

very much like a snake's tooth and

a true snake she is, in the garden of my duty.

She?

The exact copy and very picture

of her departed and much lamented mother.

My Ophelia, my daughter, my treasure.

A treasure most in want of polishing.

This is ladies' work to polish

such a treasure, and alas, I am no lady.

Alas indeed.

I may be a lass, but there is no call for such alas-ing.

I would not want to be a lad.

Then she shall be one of my ladies

and we shall see to the raising of her.

- Let me go! - Hold still. Stop moving.

- Hold still. - Absolutely tragic.

Oh, dear.

Stop!

- She's fair for you. - Ah, nonsense.

You dance like a goat, Ophelia.

Her father's a flatterer.

He wormed his way in through dirt.

Have you seen how she wears flowers

never jewels in her hair?

I thought she'd been rolling in the dirt.

She smells of garden soil.

Her father can't afford jewels. She is common.

Whatever does she see in her?

There you are, Ophelia.

What took you so long this time?

Watch yourself.

- My Lady. - My Lady.

Quick, before the water cools.

What do I smell? Like a garden.

Petals for my bath? Go ahead.

What a lovely idea, girls, thank you.

You are most welcome, My Lady.

Goodnight. Take the candles.

My eyes are too weary to read.

I could read to you, My Lady.

A girl who knows how to read?

My brother teaches me.

Goodnight, my queen.

Sleep well, My Lady.

My Lady.

Shut the door behind you.

Have you seen how the hens in the yard peck at each other?

Each choosing the one just weaker.

Why do the ladies peck at you?

I'm not noble, My Lady.

Did you know I was not raised at court?

My sister and I were sent as girls to a convent in France.

But even there, there were hens and they pecked.

Even the nuns?

But I had my sister to defend me.

Read to me, then. If you really can.

"A woman of Alencon

"having married for her profit..

...found a gentleman who offered her pleasure."

This is no devotional book.

Something much more important than prayer.

Read on.

"The gentleman caused her to find herself

"alone with him in an orchard.

"Here he said unto her..

"'Madam, my heart belongs to you.'

"She protested that he loved her rank alone.

"And he replied, 'Madam, nothing could add

"'to your graces, except the one thing

"'that can make a face more beautiful, which is..

"'...transformation..

...in ecstasy.'"

"'My Lord gratifies me so much, ' replied she.

"I do not ask for any other thing.

"'Have mercy, good lady, ' cried he

"'for I am gone mad with love.'

"At this, the lady did swoon.

"Then the gentleman, seeing her half-conquered

"plied her to good purpose

with his long-concealed passion."

The prince! The prince! He comes!

- Here he is! - Look at this, Horatio.

I told you we'd have a welcome.

Oh, and so handsome, so grown.

Every inch a king.

- My dear son! - Mm!

- It's good to be home. - Yes.

Come, Horatio.

Don't wanna lose you at the end of the journey.

And now we feast.

I remember this as an excellent place to fish.

Come away, Hamlet. Let's, let's try farther down.

A wondrous fish indeed, inhabits the grove.

The fish would like to come ashore.

Oh, the fish is very welcome.

No fish comes willing to the fisherman.

My Lord, it's one of the queen's ladies in waiting.

Then she will not mind waiting till I catch a fish.

Of all of the ladies, I'm least fond of waiting.

There are two sides struggling in you.

One is baser, one better.

She tells my fortune, Horatio.

My Lord, it is your misfortune.

- Come away, Hamlet. - Stay.

'Tis a quick fish, Horatio!

Get me my net!

Such lovely shades and so lifelike.

And these threads.

Oh, for a moment alone in the forest.

And almost naked.

Who do you suppose she'll meet under that greenwood tree?

Well, perhaps she has a rendezvous with some suitor.

Yes!

Have you ever ventured into the woods

outside the castle, My Lady?

No, I do not like the woods myself.

Oh, I would not dare.

Unaccompanied, indeed.

Hamlet, come.

Do you like it?

Most lifelike.

When I am finished, it will be truer than life.

Oh, where's the hunter?

See, he has left his arrows there.

Those are her arrows.

Go on, Ophelia.

She is Diana, goddess of the hunt.

She made her home in the forest.

She knew no man until the hunter Actaeon came upon her.

A hunter, not a fisherman?

He hid and watched her bathe.

Was he punished for this trespass?

Mercilessly.

Diana turned him into a stag and his own hounds tore him apart.

And do you ladies think this punishment was fit?

Hasn't that ever been the story?

Beauty turns men to beasts.

I'd always pictured the goddess as a girl.

You know, youthful, impulsive.

Diana is too aged in this weaving.

She is depicted as the queen, your mother, My Lord.

It's a wretched likeness.

Unpick your threads and begin again.

- Fetch her tonic. - Quickly, after the queen.

Where could she be? I hope she's gone to her chambers.

How did you lose sight of her?

Perhaps she's retired to her chamber.

- Come quick. - I mean, really, it's fine.

Well, she doesn't look aged at all.

Have you lost your way?

I've lived plenty long enough to know my way

and not yet long enough to forget it.

Your son has returned..

...you should be all joy.

And, yet, I think you pine.

It is difficult for a mother when her boy