Hamlet: Act 3, Scene III
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First Act:
Scene I: The Crazy Occult Forays of Marcellus and Horatio.
Scene II: Claudius is the villain, but he's still hotter than you.
Scene III: Ophelia's virginity is a national treasure. Just ask her dad and brother.
Scene IV: That a ghoooooooooost?
Scene V: "'Who's your daddy?' Now that's just inappropriate."
Second Act:
Scene I: Happy families are all alike---they're totally fucked up.
Scene II--Part One: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are creepy. and Part Two: Hamlet was a high school drama geek.
Third Act:
Scene I: Hamlet and Ophelia get couple's counseling, Elsinore style.
Scene II: But what he really wants to do is direct.
Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN
KING CLAUDIUS
I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.
"I like him not." WELL WHO COULD BLAME YOU. I DON'T LIKE HIM EITHER. Hamlet's behavior is so erratic at this moment in the play that he's essentially made Claudius' guilt a moot point to anyone but himself. If Hamlet were to accuse Claudius of the old king's murder right now---hell, if the Ghost were to show up in full view of the royal court and accuse Claudius on his own behalf---if I were a member of the court, and absolutely convinced of Claudius' guilt, I'd still want Hamlet locked away for the safety of himself and others. And I'd still rather Claudius were king than him.
Also, I bet Shakespeare spent a lot of time giggling to himself over the fact that he's sending crazy!Hamlet to England, and over all the later jokes where he pokes fun at England. I would.
GUILDENSTERN
We will ourselves provide:
Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many many bodies safe
That live and feed upon your majesty.
ROSENCRANTZ
The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from noyance; but much more
That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
I know I've been joking about it all along, but now I really am convinced that these two are joined at the cerebellum. In any case, it is rather masterful how Rosencrantz's artless little sermon on the relation of the king's well-being to all his dependents should come to prick Claudius's conscience right on the heels of Hamlet's wild display of a few minutes ago. If you expand R.'s metaphor just a little, he might be saying that to kill a king is to strike a mortal blow to the entire nation, which Claudius wouldn't be able to help but wince at if he is trying to be a good king to that nation in his brother's place. I wonder if it crosses his mind that Hamlet's obvious instability might be his own fault? He's pragmatic enough that it won't stop him shipping the brat off to boarding school England, but he might feel a sting over it, nonetheless.
KING CLAUDIUS
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
...if I were playing Claudius, I think that might be the moment where I decided to have Hamlet killed. Maybe.
ROSENCRANTZ GUILDENSTERN
We will haste us.
Dude, they don't even get the individuality of an ampersand anymore.
LORD POLONIUS
My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process;
Yes, because after that display with Ophelia, Hamlet is totally not going to be suspicious that people are hiding behind the arras everywhere he goes from now on.
and warrant she'll tax him home:
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
Poor Polonius. :( That last line always makes me sad, even though I kind of hate his guts. It's just the kind of thing a person always says, isn't it? "I'll do this or that in an hour," and then they die.
KING CLAUDIUS
Thanks, dear my lord.
Exit POLONIUS
O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
Strange that he should use the same imagery as Hamlet did in Act One to describe the murder.
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
Again, there's some similarity between Claudius and Hamlet's states of mind. They have a kind of paralysis in common, where will of the mind and inclination of the heart are deadlocked.
What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?
Hmm. That's also a familiar image. I believe Shakespeare may get mileage out of that one.
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
The king is accountable only to God. Some kings have found this easy to live with; but Claudius, more so than Hamlet, is Christian in his sensibilities, and seems to truly believe, not only in the horrors of Christian retribution but in the sweetness of its offered clemency. But, since he can't truly repent, this is as much a torment to him as is the vestigial, superstitious form of Christianity that plagues Hamlet. Ironic, in that Hamlet's conscience, such as it is, is clean of mortal sin (at the moment), which doesn't seem to matter much to him, but I imagine Claudius would envy it.
Jesus, guys, you'd think one of you could get it right.
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.
And the other kingly irony, that he could command the verdict of any court in the land to exonerate him, but the only seat before which he is accountable is inexorable.
What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
All may be well.
Here's the real question, Claudius: if God opened heaven and sent a TARDIS crashing down on your head, would you stop yourself killing your brother? You pretty much already just said "no."
But I empathize with him, because, having been religious myself, and even in questions outside religion, I've known what it is to want to want something and not be able to. It's not an enviable frame of mind. Of course, Claudius is a murderer who got away with his crime, so my sympathy for him is limited.
Look, I don't have to approve of someone to find them sexy.
Retires and kneels
Enter HAMLET
HAMLET
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
Is Pat your secret sexy nickname for Horatio, Hamlet?
J/k.
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
It's the problem with having a brain like Hamlet's that he never has trouble thinking of excuses. Mind you, I'm not making fun of him for not being able to kill Claudius, since I think killing Claudius is a stupid fucking idea in the first place, nor am I making like Olivier and accusing him of indecision. No, what frustrates me about Hamlet is that he just cannot admit to himself that he doesn't want to kill anyone. He might hate Claudius, be enraged against him, might even like to see him dead, but Hamlet is not his father, not a soldier, and he never learned to divorce action from thought the way a soldier does, at least upon the instant of action. There are a million excellent reasons not to kill Claudius, and he just can't help thinking of one every time he comes to the point of doing something about it. I think Hamlet actually drives himself crazy, in that he continually, intentionally fans himself into a rage in the hopes it will carry him over the brink into action, but not until Claudius actually murders his mother right before his eyes while trying to kill him can he finally allow himself to be swept away, which should tell you something about how powerful his resistance is.
O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No!
Who are you trying to convince here, Hamlet? Oh that's right, yourself. As per freakin' usual. Do you need the left hemisphere of your brain to forgive the right one?
To his credit, I do believe that the image of his father's soul lying in torment in hell is very real and vivid to Hamlet.
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't;
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
Exit
Oh, I see, you're talking to your sword. *Pause for obvious innuendo, possibly even a double entendre*
And you have to admire the fact that, though the scene could easily have ended there, we get one more thought from Claudius before we go...
KING CLAUDIUS
[Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
...indicating that his efforts at forcing himself to repentance have failed, his soul is no cleaner than before he started trying to pray, and had Hamlet actually killed him, he would have been damned anyway. I've heard a rumor that this is called dramatic irony.
Tomorrow: Act 3, Scene IV, in which Hamlet completely loses his shit.
First Act:
Scene I: The Crazy Occult Forays of Marcellus and Horatio.
Scene II: Claudius is the villain, but he's still hotter than you.
Scene III: Ophelia's virginity is a national treasure. Just ask her dad and brother.
Scene IV: That a ghoooooooooost?
Scene V: "'Who's your daddy?' Now that's just inappropriate."
Second Act:
Scene I: Happy families are all alike---they're totally fucked up.
Scene II--Part One: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are creepy. and Part Two: Hamlet was a high school drama geek.
Third Act:
Scene I: Hamlet and Ophelia get couple's counseling, Elsinore style.
Scene II: But what he really wants to do is direct.
Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN
KING CLAUDIUS
I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.
"I like him not." WELL WHO COULD BLAME YOU. I DON'T LIKE HIM EITHER. Hamlet's behavior is so erratic at this moment in the play that he's essentially made Claudius' guilt a moot point to anyone but himself. If Hamlet were to accuse Claudius of the old king's murder right now---hell, if the Ghost were to show up in full view of the royal court and accuse Claudius on his own behalf---if I were a member of the court, and absolutely convinced of Claudius' guilt, I'd still want Hamlet locked away for the safety of himself and others. And I'd still rather Claudius were king than him.
Also, I bet Shakespeare spent a lot of time giggling to himself over the fact that he's sending crazy!Hamlet to England, and over all the later jokes where he pokes fun at England. I would.
GUILDENSTERN
We will ourselves provide:
Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many many bodies safe
That live and feed upon your majesty.
ROSENCRANTZ
The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from noyance; but much more
That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
I know I've been joking about it all along, but now I really am convinced that these two are joined at the cerebellum. In any case, it is rather masterful how Rosencrantz's artless little sermon on the relation of the king's well-being to all his dependents should come to prick Claudius's conscience right on the heels of Hamlet's wild display of a few minutes ago. If you expand R.'s metaphor just a little, he might be saying that to kill a king is to strike a mortal blow to the entire nation, which Claudius wouldn't be able to help but wince at if he is trying to be a good king to that nation in his brother's place. I wonder if it crosses his mind that Hamlet's obvious instability might be his own fault? He's pragmatic enough that it won't stop him shipping the brat off to boarding school England, but he might feel a sting over it, nonetheless.
KING CLAUDIUS
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
...if I were playing Claudius, I think that might be the moment where I decided to have Hamlet killed. Maybe.
ROSENCRANTZ GUILDENSTERN
We will haste us.
Dude, they don't even get the individuality of an ampersand anymore.
LORD POLONIUS
My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process;
Yes, because after that display with Ophelia, Hamlet is totally not going to be suspicious that people are hiding behind the arras everywhere he goes from now on.
and warrant she'll tax him home:
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
Poor Polonius. :( That last line always makes me sad, even though I kind of hate his guts. It's just the kind of thing a person always says, isn't it? "I'll do this or that in an hour," and then they die.
KING CLAUDIUS
Thanks, dear my lord.
Exit POLONIUS
O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
Strange that he should use the same imagery as Hamlet did in Act One to describe the murder.
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
Again, there's some similarity between Claudius and Hamlet's states of mind. They have a kind of paralysis in common, where will of the mind and inclination of the heart are deadlocked.
What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?
Hmm. That's also a familiar image. I believe Shakespeare may get mileage out of that one.
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
The king is accountable only to God. Some kings have found this easy to live with; but Claudius, more so than Hamlet, is Christian in his sensibilities, and seems to truly believe, not only in the horrors of Christian retribution but in the sweetness of its offered clemency. But, since he can't truly repent, this is as much a torment to him as is the vestigial, superstitious form of Christianity that plagues Hamlet. Ironic, in that Hamlet's conscience, such as it is, is clean of mortal sin (at the moment), which doesn't seem to matter much to him, but I imagine Claudius would envy it.
Jesus, guys, you'd think one of you could get it right.
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.
And the other kingly irony, that he could command the verdict of any court in the land to exonerate him, but the only seat before which he is accountable is inexorable.
What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it when one can not repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
All may be well.
Here's the real question, Claudius: if God opened heaven and sent a TARDIS crashing down on your head, would you stop yourself killing your brother? You pretty much already just said "no."
But I empathize with him, because, having been religious myself, and even in questions outside religion, I've known what it is to want to want something and not be able to. It's not an enviable frame of mind. Of course, Claudius is a murderer who got away with his crime, so my sympathy for him is limited.
Look, I don't have to approve of someone to find them sexy.
Retires and kneels
Enter HAMLET
HAMLET
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
Is Pat your secret sexy nickname for Horatio, Hamlet?
J/k.
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
It's the problem with having a brain like Hamlet's that he never has trouble thinking of excuses. Mind you, I'm not making fun of him for not being able to kill Claudius, since I think killing Claudius is a stupid fucking idea in the first place, nor am I making like Olivier and accusing him of indecision. No, what frustrates me about Hamlet is that he just cannot admit to himself that he doesn't want to kill anyone. He might hate Claudius, be enraged against him, might even like to see him dead, but Hamlet is not his father, not a soldier, and he never learned to divorce action from thought the way a soldier does, at least upon the instant of action. There are a million excellent reasons not to kill Claudius, and he just can't help thinking of one every time he comes to the point of doing something about it. I think Hamlet actually drives himself crazy, in that he continually, intentionally fans himself into a rage in the hopes it will carry him over the brink into action, but not until Claudius actually murders his mother right before his eyes while trying to kill him can he finally allow himself to be swept away, which should tell you something about how powerful his resistance is.
O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No!
Who are you trying to convince here, Hamlet? Oh that's right, yourself. As per freakin' usual. Do you need the left hemisphere of your brain to forgive the right one?
To his credit, I do believe that the image of his father's soul lying in torment in hell is very real and vivid to Hamlet.
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't;
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
Exit
Oh, I see, you're talking to your sword. *Pause for obvious innuendo, possibly even a double entendre*
And you have to admire the fact that, though the scene could easily have ended there, we get one more thought from Claudius before we go...
KING CLAUDIUS
[Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
...indicating that his efforts at forcing himself to repentance have failed, his soul is no cleaner than before he started trying to pray, and had Hamlet actually killed him, he would have been damned anyway. I've heard a rumor that this is called dramatic irony.
Tomorrow: Act 3, Scene IV, in which Hamlet completely loses his shit.