Performing
a messenger speech

Polonius has commanded Ophelia not to speak to Hamlet, since he has learned that Hamlet is wooing her. In the meantime, Hamlet has learned from his father’s ghost that his father was murdered by Hamlet’s uncle. Hamlet is distracted: either mad or pretending to be mad. Ophelia, dutiful to her father’s wishes, has come to tell him of a scene she has just witnessed. This is a perfect example of a messenger speech.

The scene is intensely moving to Ophelia because of Hamlet’s strange behaviour and because she thinks that her coldness to him may be the cause of it. She fears that he has gone mad because of his love for her and her rejection of him. As a messenger speech, it is best delivered as if Ophelia is reliving the scene and the feeling that it evoked in her at the moment that it took place.

Key to the Piece: While the essence of a messenger speech is reliving the moment emotionally, the actor must take great care not to lose control of the text and just make it all “sad.” The text is the source of the emotion and it must remain strong and clear. Not everything made Ophelia sad: Some things frightened her, some things puzzled her, some things shocked her and some things filled her with grief. The actor must use all of this and more, and choose carefully.

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Emotion Relived

	Play:	Hamlet
	Scene:	II, 1; 78 – 85, 88 – 101
	Character:	Ophelia
	Setting:	Polonius’ quarters in Elsinore
	Kimberly-Sue moved to Montr�al to pursue her lifetime goal of becoming a professional actor. Her skills and interests include the use of dialects, stage combat techniques, dancing, swimming, and figure skating. She is fully bilingual and enjoys photography.

 
My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced,
No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled,
Ungartered, and down-gyvèd to his ankle,
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
And with a look so piteous in purport
As if he had been loosèd out of hell
To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
…
He took me by the wrist and held me hard,
Then goes he to the length of all his arm
And with his other hand thus o’er his brow
He falls to such perusal of my face
As a would draw it. Long stayed he so.
At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being. That done, he lets me go,
And, with his head over his shoulder turned,
He seemed to find his way without his eyes,
For out o’ doors he went without their help,
And to the last bended their light on me.