Tragedy of course, which unfolds from striving to take revenge Classical revenge is part of the social issue during this time Type of play
1. Atrocity is committed2. Construction of the “revenger” – Wrestles between taking the revenge and christian ethics3. Retribute atrocity Structure of revenge plays
– Elizabethan period- Also during Seneca’s plays in romantic period- Why might SP be interested in revenge comedies? – The state aught to be dealing with issues like this at this point in history; i.e. duels were illegal but still comitted- Handling a real pressure duing this time by looking back at Senecan plays and writings Reveng plays time period
A seemingly healthy exterior concealing and interior sickness”Will but skin and film the ulcerous place, whiles rank corruption, mining all within, infects unseen” (3.4.154-165). Recurring Motif
-Claudius kills Hamlet’s father with- players’ enactment of “The Murder of Gonzago”- Two poisons (envenomed sword and poisoned drink) with which Claudius and Laertes plot to rid themselves of young HamletPoison is an evil nature seeking to destroy humanity’s better nature, as in the archetypal murder of Abel by Cain. Poison
His character focuses on the more grotesque aspect of human behavior such as SI and sarcasm, rashness, making puns, etc. Not to mention Hamlet is a horrible revenger because of his constant Actions vs Thoughts conflict. We have seen the most interiority in Hamlet than any other character before; his internal conflicts are so large that barely words can represent them. Hamlet
Caught between the conflicting wills of Hamlet and her father, and her brother Laertes.- Obedient by instinct and training to patriarchal instruction, she is unprepared to cope with divided authority and so takes refuge in passivity Ophelia
A scene including the guards. Denmark is in preparation for war at this time. We get to see into the social realm of Denmark. – Guards are unnerved about seeing the ghost and call on the scholar Horatio who knows how to speak to and approach the ghost Opening Scene
Characters often try to figure out what’s going on in the play, and by this SP introduces a play that tries to find truth Rumors are a huge theme/motif throughout the play, and the first scene in the very first act sets this up for us.- They are speculative and place meaning in disturbing situations and come up with a plan Paradigm of the play:
Omniscient POV
Hamlet killed Fortinbras’ father, and took all of their land, and now Fortinbras wants the land back which was stolen from his father – Denmark. Horatio responds to Marcellus’ questioning, as he does not know what is really going on during this time, but attempts to understand it. Horatio addresses the speculation/”rumor” of war. 1.1. 74MARCELLUSGood now, sit down and tell me, he that knows,Why this same strict and most observant watchSo nightly toils the subject of the land,And why such daily cast of brazen cannonAnd foreign mart for implements of war,Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore taskDoes not divide the Sunday from the week.What might be toward, that this sweaty hasteDoth make the night joint laborer with the day?Who is ‘t that can inform me?HORATIOThat can I.At least, the whisper goes so: our last king,Whose image even but now appeared to us,Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,Thereto pricked on by a most emulate pride,Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet(For so this side of our known world esteemed him)Did slay this Fortinbras, who by a sealed compactWell ratified by law and heraldry,Did forfeit, with his life, all those his landsWhich he stood seized of to the conqueror,Against the which a moiety competentWas gagèd by our king, which had returnedTo the inheritance of FortinbrasHad he been vanquisher, as, by the same covenantAnd carriage of the article designed,His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,Of unimprovèd mettle hot and full,Hath in the skirts of Norway here and thereSharked up a list of lawless resolutes,For food and diet, to some enterpriseThat hath a stomach in ‘t, which is no other—As it doth well appear unto our state—But to recover of us, by strong hand
The Mousetrap. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke’s name, his wife Baptista. The Play within a play
Hamlet is wearing all black from his father’s funeral prior to the ceremony, and Gertrude is encouraging him to “cast thy nighted color off” and accept his fathers death, since everyone must die eventually. 1.2.68Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.Do not forever with thy vailèd lidsSeek for thy noble father in the dust.Thou know’st ’tis common. All that lives must die,Passing through nature to eternity.
HAMLET”Seem,” mother? No, it is. I don’t know what you mean by “seem.” Neither my black clothes, my dear mother, nor my heavy sighs, nor my weeping, nor my downcast eyes, nor any other display of grief can show what I really feel. It’s true that all these things “seem” like grief, since a person could use them to fake grief if he wanted to. But I’ve got more real grief inside me that you could ever see on the surface. These clothes are just a hint of it.Hamlet’s feelings clearly contrast to his mother’s regarding his father’s death. 1.2.76″Seems,” madam? Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”‘Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,Nor customary suits of solemn black,Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,Nor the dejected ‘havior of the visage,Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,That can denote me truly. These indeed “seem,”For they are actions that a man might play.But I have that within which passeth show,These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Hamlet’s soliloquy which shows his interiority. – Suicidal tendencies- Highly emotional character- The way he compresses time increases the more upset he gets during the passage- HM idolizes his father and his father treated Gertrude with great care. HM thought that his mother also felt this but essentially had a rug pulled out from underneath him out of surprise- Embarrassed due to the incestuous public embarrassment that his uncle is now sleeping with his own motherAh, I wish my dirty flesh could melt away into a vapor, or that God had not made a law against suicide. Oh God, God! How tired, stale, and pointless life is to me. Damn it! It’s like a garden that no one’s taking care of, and that’s growing wild. Only nasty weeds grow in it now. I can’t believe it’s come to this. My father’s only been dead for two months—no, not even two. Such an excellent king, as superior to my uncle as a god is to a beast, and so loving toward my mother that he kept the wind from blowing too hard on her face. Oh God, do I have to remember that? She would hang on to him, and the more she was with him the more she wanted to be with him; she couldn’t get enough of him. Yet even so, within a month of my father’s death (I don’t even want to think about it. Oh women! You are so weak!), even before she had broken in the shoes she wore to his funeral, crying like crazy—even an animal would have mourned its mate longer than she did!—there she was marrying my uncle, my father’s brother, who’s about as much like my father as I’m like Hercules. Less than a month after my father’s death, even before the tears on her cheeks had dried, she remarried. Oh, so quick to jump into a bed of incest! That’s not good, and no good can come of it either. But my heart must break in silence, since I can’t mention my feelings aloud. 1.2.129Oh, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt,Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,Or that the Everlasting had not fixedHis canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God, God!How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitableSeem to me all the uses of this world!Fie on ‘t, ah fie! ‘Tis an unweeded gardenThat grows to seed. Things rank and gross in naturePossess it merely. That it should come to this.But two months dead—nay, not so much, not two.So excellent a king, that was to thisHyperion to a satyr. So loving to my motherThat he might not beteem the winds of heavenVisit her face too roughly.—Heaven and earth,Must I remember? Why, she would hang on himAs if increase of appetite had grownBy what it fed on, and yet, within a month—Let me not think on ‘t. Frailty, thy name is woman!—A little month, or ere those shoes were oldWith which she followed my poor father’s body,Like Niobe, all tears. Why she, even she—O God, a beast that wants discourse of reasonWould have mourned longer!—married with my uncle,My father’s brother, but no more like my fatherThan I to Hercules. Within a month,Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tearsHad left the flushing in her gallèd eyes,She married. O most wicked speed, to postWith such dexterity to incestuous sheets!It is not nor it cannot come to good,But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
HAMLET expressing his sarcasm: It was all about saving a few bucks, Horatio. The leftovers from the funeral dinner made a convenient wedding banquet. 1.2.180Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral baked meatsDid coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Laertes and Ophelia have a conversation about not trusting Hamlet; HM vowed his love for O and of course she believes it. Polonius calls her a baby, and in the film he becomes physically aggressive. “Believe that you are a foolish little baby for believing these “offers” are something real. Offer yourself more respect.” 1.3.100OPHELIAHe hath, my lord, of late made many tendersOf his affection to me.POLONIUSAffection! Pooh, you speak like a green girl,Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.Do you believe his “tenders,” as you call them?OPHELIAI do not know, my lord, what I should think.POLONIUSMarry, I’ll teach you. Think yourself a babyThat you have ta’en these tenders for true pay,Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly,Or—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,Running it thus—you’ll tender me a fool
Hamlet; ” It happens sometimes that one little defect in these people, as wonderful and talented as they may be, will make them look completely bad to other people. A tiny spot of evil casts doubt on their good qualities and ruins their reputations.” 1.4.29-38Or by some habit that too much o’erleavensThe form of plausive manners—that these men,Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,Being nature’s livery or fortune’s star,Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,As infinite as man may undergo)Shall in the general censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault. The dram of evilDoth all the noble substance of a doubtTo his own scandal.
in 1.5 Hamlet confronts the ghost of his father the first time. He sees it in 1.4 and does not know what it is, thinks it’s a goblin, devil, or evil spirit of some sort. The ghost is burning in fire (purgatory) and it is so horrible that he cannot tell Hamlet about it. Is it strange that a christian ghost is coming out of purgatory looking for revenge? 1.4.11I am thy father’s spirit,Doomed for a certain term to walk the nightAnd for the day confined to fast in fires,Till the foul crimes done in my days of natureAre burnt and purged away. But that I am forbidTo tell the secrets of my prison house,
In 1.5, Hamlet is eager to know the death of his father so that he can take willing revenge faster than a person falls in love. At the end of 1.5 we see he plans to “put an antic disposition on” but then states, ‘O Cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right!”Does Hamlet resent this situation? 1.5.30Haste me to know ‘t, that I, with wings as swiftAs meditation or the thoughts of love,May sweep to my revenge.
King references the Garden of Eden by including the metaphor of “snakes” for poison; brother vs. brother as Cain and Abel for what one wants –> Gertrude. 1.5.36Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of DenmarkIs by a forgèd process of my deathRankly abused. But know, thou noble youth,The serpent that did sting thy father’s lifeNow wears his crown.
Did the king know of Gertrude’s disloyalty during their marriage? However, he does not incline Hamlet to injure or hurt her in any way but would rather have her fester with guilt lol 1.5.43Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts—O wicked wit and gifts, that have the powerSo to seduce!—won to his shameful lustThe will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.O Hamlet, what a falling off was there!From me, whose love was of that dignityThat it went hand in hand even with the vowI made to her in marriage, and to declineUpon a wretch whose natural gifts were poorTo those of mine.
After being poisoned in one ear the king became injured with sores and scabs all over his body 1.5.69With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,And in the porches of my ears did pourThe leperous distilment, whose effectHolds such an enmity with blood of manThat swift as quicksilver it courses throughThe natural gates and alleys of the bodyAnd with a sudden vigor doth possetAnd curd, like eager droppings into milk,The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine.And a most instant tetter barked about,Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crustAll my smooth body.
Polonius is meeting with Reynaldo, who is going to Paris to spy on Laertes. “Make sure your little lie brings out the truth. We’re doing this wisely and intelligently, indirectly, finding out things by roundabout means. That’s how you’ll find out what my son is up to in Paris.” 2.1.63See you now,Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,With windlasses and with assays of bias,By indirections find directions out.So by my former lecture and adviceShall you my son. You have me, have you not?
Ophelia is complaining about Hamlet treating her poorly. OPHELIAFather, I was up in my room sewing when Hamlet came in with no hat on his head, his shirt unbuttoned, and his stockings dirty, undone, and down around his ankles. He was pale as his undershirt, and his knees were knocking together. He looked so out of sorts, as if he’d just come back from hell. He came up to me. 2.1.82My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,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 purportAs if he had been loosèd out of hellTo speak of horrors—he comes before me.
Polonius thinks Hamlet is so disturbed with love and this is why he had acted the way he did to Ophelia; this completely contrasts his initial forbiddance of their relationship. 2.1.104This is the very ecstasy of love,Whose violent property fordoes itselfAnd leads the will to desperate undertakingsAs oft as any passion under heavenThat does afflict our natures.
The King invites Hamlet’s childhood friends Rosencrantz and Gluildenstern to spend time with him in an attempt to find out what’s wrong with him (afflicts him thus) so that they can fix it. Ophelia, on the other hand, does not try to fix Hamlet or assign a cause to his insanity. – R&G are childhood friends of HamletOther examples? – Hermia and Helena, – Henry V and Scrope 2.2.1.Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.Moreover that we much did long to see you,The need we have to use you did provokeOur hasty sending. Something have you heardOf Hamlet’s “transformation”—so call itSince nor th’ exterior nor the inward manResembles that it was. What it should be,More than his father’s death, that thus hath put himSo much from th’ understanding of himself,I cannot dream of. I entreat you bothThat, being of so young days brought up with himAnd since so neighbored to his youth and ‘havior,That you vouchsafe your rest here in our courtSome little time so by your companiesTo draw him on to pleasures and to gather,So much as from occasion you may glean,Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thusThat, opened, lies within our remedy.
“Evidence” this actually proves that Hamlet was in love even though he sucks at poetry (I am ill at these numbers)- Much Ado: Benedick sucks at writing true poetry but he writes a sonnet for Beatrice- Henry in Henry 2.2.115 “Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet.”This in obedience hath my daughter shown me,And more above, hath his solicitings,As they fell out by time, by means, and place,All given to mine ear.
HAMLETThen by all means never let her walk in public. Procreation is a good thing, but if your daughter gets pregnant … look out, friend.POLONIUS(to himself) Now, what does he mean by that? Still harping on my daughter. But he didn’t recognize me at first. He mistook me for a fish seller. He’s far gone. But when I was young I went crazy for love too, almost as bad as this. 2.2.188HAMLETLet her not walk i’ th’ sun. Conception is a blessing, but, as your daughter may conceive—Friend, look to ‘t.POLONIUS(aside) How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone. And truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love, very near this. I’ll speak to him again.—(to HAMLET) What do you read, my lord?
King Claudius- Celebration of the marriage of Claudius and Gertrude with the court. The king’s death is somewhat dismissed. “Although I still have fresh memories of my brother the elder Hamlet’s death, and though it was proper to mourn him throughout our kingdom, life still goes on—I think it’s wise to mourn him while also thinking about my own well being. Therefore, I’ve married my former sister-in-law, the queen, with mixed feelings of happiness and sadness.” 1.2.1. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s deathThe memory be green, and that it us befittedTo bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdomTo be contracted in one brow of woe,Yet so far hath discretion fought with natureThat we with wisest sorrow think on himTogether with remembrance of ourselves.Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,Th’ imperial jointress to this warlike state,Have we—as ’twere with a defeated joy,With an auspicious and a dropping eye,With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,In equal scale weighing delight and dole—Taken to wife.
This is a metaphysical description of the world and man but all is just a “quintessence of dust” to Hamlet. It is a disparaging view of the world according to Hamlet.- Very important part of the play 2.2.294HAMLETI will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air—look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world. The paragon of animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me. No, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Audience did not like the play described (Caviar to the general). Greatest poet ever was Vigil, and poem was Aeneas. Dido, Priam, and Aeneas are characters in the Roman poet’s epic called The Aeneid, which produced the dramatic spin-off Hamlet is referring to here.- Pyrrhus, the son of the Greek hero Achilles, came to Troy at the end of the Trojan War to avenge his father’s death by killing Priam, king of Troy. – The description of pyrus’ revenge was a brutual murder of a helpless old man – was it tragic or heroic?- Elevates SP/ He is very learned, distancing himself from the general publicHAMLETI heard you recite a speech for me once that was never acted out, or if it was, it was performed only once, since the play was not popular—like caviar for a slob who couldn’t appreciate it. But the critics and I found it to be an excellent play, with well-ordered scenes that were clever but not fancy. I remember one critic said there was no vulgar language to spice up the dialogue, and showing off on playwright’s part. That critic called it an excellent play, containing things to reflect upon as well as sweet music to enjoy. I loved one speech in particular. It was when Aeneas told Dido about Priam’s murder. If you happen to remember this scene, begin at line—let me see, how does it go? The rugged Pyrrhus hid inside the Trojan Horse with the other Greek heroes.Pyrrhus, strong as a tiger—No, that’s wrong; it begins like this: Savage Pyrrhus, whose black armor was As dark plans, and was like the night When he crouched inside the Trojan Horse, Has now smeared his dark armor With something worse. From head to foot He’s now covered in red, decorated horribly With the blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons. The blood is baked to a paste by fires he set in the streets, Fires that lend a terrible light to his horrible murders. Boiling with anger and fire, And coated thick with hard-baked blood, His eyes glowing like rubies, the hellish Pyrrhus Goes looking for grandfather Priam. 2.2.434I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted. Or, if it was, not above once, for the play, I remember, pleased not the million. ‘Twas caviary to the general. But it was—as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine—an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning.I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savory, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation, but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved. ‘Twas Aeneas’ tale to Dido and thereabout of it, especially where he speaks of Priam’s slaughter. If it live in your >memory, begin at this line—Let me see, let me see—The rugged Pyrrhus, like th’ Hyrcanian beast—It is not so. It begins with Pyrrhus—The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,Black as his purpose, did the night resembleWhen he lay couchèd in the ominous horse,Hath now this dread and black complexion smearedWith heraldry more dismal. Head to footNow is he total gules, horridly trickedWith blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,Baked and impasted with the parching streets,That lend a tyrannous and damnèd lightTo their lord’s murder. Roasted in wrath and fire,And thus o’ersizèd with coagulate gore,With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish PyrrhusOld grandsire Priam seeks.
FIRST PLAYER Soon he finds PriamFailing in his battle against the Greeks. His old sword,Which Priam cannot wield anymore, lies where it fell.An unfair opponent,Pyrrhus rushes at Priam, and in his rage he misses;But the wind created by his sword is enough to makeThe weakened old man fall. Just then the city of Ilium,As if feeling this fatal blow to its ruler,Collapses in flames, and the crashCaptures Pyrrhus’s attention. His sword,Which was falling onto Priam’s white-haired headSeemed to hang in the air.Pyrrhus stood there like a man in a painting,Doing nothing.But just as a raging thunderstormIs often interrupted by a moment’s silence,And then soon after the region is split apart by dreadful thunderclaps,In the same way, after Pyrrhus paused,His newly awakened fury set him to work again.When the Cyclopses were making unbreakable armorFor the god of war, their hammers never fellSo mercilessly as Pyrrhus’s bloody swordNow falls on Priam.Get out of here, Lady Luck. All you godsShould come together to rob her of her powers,Break all the spokes on her wheel of fortune,And send it rolling down the hills of heavenInto the depths of hell.The muffled queen, running back and forth, spraying the flames with her tears, a cloth on that head where a crown had recently sat and a blanket instead of a robe wrapped around her body, which has withered from childbearing: anyone seeing her in such a state, no matter how spiteful he was, would have cursed Lady Luck for bringing her down like that. If the gods had seen her while she watched Pyrrhus chopping her husband into bits, the terrible cry she uttered would have made all the eyes in heaven burn with hot tears—unless the gods don’t care at all about human affairs. FIRST PLAYER Anon he finds himStriking too short at Greeks. His antique sword,Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,Repugnant to command. Unequal matched,Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide,But with the whiff and wind of his fell swordThe unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming topStoops to his base, and with a hideous crashTakes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear. For, lo, his sword,Which was declining on the milky headOf reverend Priam, seemed i’ th’ air to stick.So as a painted tyrant Pyrrhus stood,And, like a neutral to his will and matter,Did nothing.But as we often see against some stormA silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,The bold winds speechless, and the orb belowAs hush as death, anon the dreadful thunderDoth rend the region. So, after Pyrrhus’ pause,Arousèd vengeance sets him new a-work.And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fallOn Mars’s armor forged for proof eterneWith less remorse than Pyrrhus’ bleeding swordNow falls on Priam.Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you godsIn general synod take away her power,Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,As low as to the fiends!The mobled queenRun barefoot up and down, threatening the flamesWith bisson rheum, a clout upon that headWhere late the diadem stood, and for a robe,About her lank and all o’erteemèd loins,A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up—Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steeped,’Gainst fortune’s state would treason have pronounced.But if the gods themselves did see her thenWhen she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sportIn mincing with his sword her husband’s limbs,The instant burst of clamor that she made,(Unless things mortal move them not at all)Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,And passion in the gods.
HAMLETWhat is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he would weep for her? Just imagine what he would do if he had the cause for feeling that I do. He would drown the stage with his tears and burst the audience’s ears with his terrible words, drive the guilty spectators crazy, terrify the innocent ones, confuse the ignorant ones, and astound absolutely everyone’s eyes and ears. But what do I, a grim and uncourageous rascal, do? Mope around like a dreamer, not even bothering with plans for revenge, and I can say nothing—nothing at all—on behalf of a king whose dear life was stolen. Am I a coward? Is there anyone out there who’ll call me “villain” and slap me hard? Pull off my beard? Pinch my nose? Call me the worst liar? By God, if someone would do that to me, I’d take it, because I’m a lily-livered man—otherwise, I would’ve fattened up the local vultures with the intestines of that low-life king a long time ago. Bloody, inhuman villain! Remorseless, treacherous, sex-obsessed, unnatural villain! Ah, revenge! Is he hard on himself? He is highly emotional and over thinks about the revenge. 2.2.559What’s Hecuba to him or he to HecubaThat he should weep for her? What would he doHad he the motive and the cue for passionThat I have? He would drown the stage with tearsAnd cleave the general ear with horrid speech,Make mad the guilty and appall the free,Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeedThe very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peakLike John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,And can say nothing—no, not for a king,Upon whose property and most dear lifeA damned defeat was made. Am I a coward?Who calls me “villain”? Breaks my pate across?Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?Tweaks me by the nose? Gives me the lie i’ th’ throatAs deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?Ha!’Swounds, I should take it, for it cannot beBut I am pigeon-livered and lack gallTo make oppression bitter, or ere thisI should have fatted all the region kitesWith this slave’s offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!O vengeance!
another example of Hamlet’s SI. conclusion is that thinking too much prevents action (by over thinking)THOUGH ACTIONThe question is: is it better to be alive or dead? Is it nobler to put up with all the nasty things that luck throws your way, or to fight against all those troubles by simply putting an end to them once and for all? Dying, sleeping—that’s all dying is—a sleep that ends all the heartache and shocks that life on earth gives us—that’s an achievement to wish for. To die, to sleep—to sleep, maybe to dream. Ah, but there’s the catch: in death’s sleep who knows what kind of dreams might come, after we’ve put the noise and commotion of life behind us. That’s certainly something to worry about. That’s the consideration that makes us stretch out our sufferings so long. After all, who would put up with all life’s humiliations—the abuse from superiors, the insults of arrogant men, the pangs of unrequited love, the inefficiency of the legal system, the rudeness of people in office, and the mistreatment good people have to take from bad—when you could simply take out your knife and call it quits? Who would choose to grunt and sweat through an exhausting life, unless they were afraid of something dreadful after death, the undiscovered country from which no visitor returns, which we wonder about without getting any answers from and which makes us stick to the evils we know rather than rush off to seek the ones we don’t? Fear of death makes us all cowards, and our natural boldness becomes weak with too much thinking. Actions that should be carried out at once get misdirected, and stop being actions at all. But shh, here comes the beautiful Ophelia. Pretty lady, please remember me when you pray. 3.1.57To be, or not to be? That is the question—Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,And, by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep—No more—and by a sleep to say we endThe heartache and the thousand natural shocksThat flesh is heir to—’tis a consummationDevoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep.To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,For in that sleep of death what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause. There’s the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,The insolence of office, and the spurnsThat patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscovered country from whose bournNo traveler returns, puzzles the willAnd makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pith and momentWith this regard their currents turn awry,And lose the name of action.—Soft you now,The fair Ophelia!—Nymph, in thy orisonsBe all my sins remembered.
Linked to the disappointment he feels for his mother / disgust for human nature (he wants her to go to a nunnery so she will not have children that are sinners) 3.1.122: Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.
Hamlet gives instructions to the actors on how to act properly- Herod: From the cycle plays (14)- Bad acting doesn’t get across that message that needs to get across (16)WORK ACTION asTHOUGHT ACTIONIt is very hard to perform effectively in life or on stageFit the action to the word and the word to the action. Act natural at all costs. Exaggeration has no place in the theater, where the purpose is to represent reality, holding a mirror up to virtue, to vice, and to the spirit of the times. If you handle this badly, it just makes ignorant people laugh while regular theater-goers are miserable—and they’re the ones you should be keeping happy. 3.2. MetatheaterHAMLETSpeak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus, but use all gently, for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o’erdoing Termagant. It out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.>>>Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance that you o’erstep not the modesty of nature. For anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve, the censure of the which one must in your allowance o’erweigh a whole theatre of others.
Hamlet uses this reaction as a reason forto hadd to his own staged madness. “Where’s your father?
Hamlet’s relationship to HoratioHamlet confides in Horatio because they have a supportive homosocial relationshipLine 279: Damon as another reference to this: “For thou dost know, O Damon dear,” 3.2.70Give me that manThat is not passion’s slave, and I will wear himIn my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,As I do thee.
Hamlet compresses time again: “Look how cheerful my mother is, only two hours after my father died.”128-150 we see his sarcasm AGAIN: ” O heavens! Die two months ago and not forgotten yet? Then there’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive his life half a year. “ 3.2.123HAMLETO God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? For, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.OPHELIANay, ’tis twice two months, my lord.
Purpose vs. Memory – make promises in times of passion but we do nothing about them; human nature allows only transient motivationMEMORY PURPOSEKeep in memory your motivations Otherwise have no purpose/motivation 3.2.184PLAYER QUEENThe instances that second marriage moveAre base respects of thrift, but none of love.A second time I kill my husband deadWhen second husband kisses me in bed.PLAYER KINGI do believe you think what now you speak,But what we do determine oft we break.Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity,Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.Most necessary ’tis that we forgetTo pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.
What you want isnt always what you get (relatd to O Cursed Spite) – Rumor that the king acted out because the play had been correct and the king was guilty 3.2.208FIRST PLAYERAnd who in want a hollow friend doth try,Directly seasons him his enemy.But, orderly to end where I begun,Our wills and fates do so contrary runThat our devices still are overthrown.Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.So think thou wilt no second husband wed,But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
Hamlet has the opportunity to kill the king while he is praying (view of Claudius’ interiority). The king cannot purge his sins correctly because he is still attached to the crown. He is caught between though and action.Oh, my crime is so rotten it stinks all the way to heaven. It has the mark of Cain on it, a brother’s murder. I can’t pray, though I want to desperately. My guilt is stronger even than my intentions. And like a person with two opposite things to do at once, I stand paralyzed and neglect them both. So what if this cursed hand of mine is coated with my brother’s blood? Isn’t there enough rain in heaven to wash it clean as snow? Isn’t that what God’s mercy is for? And doesn’t prayer serve these two purposes—to keep us from sinning and to bring us forgiveness when we have sinned? So I’ll pray. I’ve already committed my sin. But, oh, what kind of prayer is there for me? “Dear Lord, forgive me for my horrible murder”? That won’t work, since I’m still reaping the rewards of that murder: my crown and my queen. Can a person be forgiven and still keep the fruits of his crime? In this wicked world, criminals often take the money they stole and use it to buy off the law, shoving justice aside. But not in heaven. Up there, every action is judged for exactly what it’s worth, and we’re forced to confront our crimes. So what can I do? What is there left to do? Offer whatever repentance I can—that couldn’t hurt. But it can’t help either! Oh, what a lousy situation I’m in. My heart’s as black as death. My soul is stuck to sin, and the more it struggles to break free, the more it sticks. Help me, angels! C’mon, make an effort. Bend, stubborn knees. Steely heart, be soft as a newborn babe, so I can pray. Perhaps everything will turn out okay after all. (he kneels) 3.3.36Oh, my offence is rank. It smells to heaven.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. What if this cursèd handWere thicker than itself with brother’s blood?Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavensTo wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercyBut to confront the visage of offence?And what’s in prayer but this twofold force,To be forestallèd ere we come to fallOr pardoned being down? Then I’ll look up.My fault is past. But oh, what form of prayerCan serve my turn, “Forgive me my foul murder”?hat cannot be, since I am still possessedOf those effects for which I did the murder:My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.May one be pardoned and retain th’ offense?In the corrupted currents of this worldOffense’s gilded hand may shove by justice,And oft ’tis seen the wicked prize itselfBuys out the law. But ’tis not so above.There is no shuffling. There the action liesIn his true nature, and we ourselves compelled,Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,To give in evidence. 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 limèd 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. (kneels)
Hamlet will catch the king a certain time when dealing his revenge Agency: You have to be the person who gives the revengeRevenge: ACT* with certain characteristics that are all required 3.3.89-90. Why does Hamlet have trouble killing the king?Now might I do it pat. Now he is a-praying.And now I’ll do ‘t. And so he goes to heaven.And so am I revenged.—That would be scanned.A villain kills my father, and, for that,I, his sole son, do this same villain sendTo heaven.Oh, 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 revengedTo take him in the purging of his soulWhen he is fit and seasoned for his passage?No.Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,Or in th’ incestuous pleasure of his bed,At game a-swearing, or about some actThat has no relish of salvation in ‘t—Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,And that his soul may be as damned and blackAs hell, whereto it goes. My mother staysThis physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
– Attitude toward polonius is that he is just a pile of guts on the ground- Using human parts to undrecut pretentious special status/roayal status Attitude toward Polonius
Queen believes Hamlet and believes Claudius is guilty for killing Hamlet’s father. Q1
Hamlet again curses himself for not being a good revengerIn 3.4 Hamlet goes to confront his mother. – Oedipal/freudian hinting with any sexual connotation with a bed placed in the chamber – Polonius is killed yet focus is on Hamlet’s digust of his mother’s behavior 3.4.180I do repent. But heaven hath pleased it so,To punish me with this and this with me,That I must be their scourge and minister.I will bestow him and will answer wellThe death I gave him. So, again, good night.
Uses an image from Henry V, talking about Rosencratz and Guildenstern- Practical joke as he uses the very order for king has for execution for R&G.HAMLETYes, it’s a done deal, the documents are ready, and my two schoolmates, whom I trust about as much as rattlesnakes, are in charge. They’re the ones who’ll lead me on my march to mischief. Let it happen. It’s fun to watch the engineer get blown up by his own explosives, and with any luck I’ll dig a few feet below their bombs and blow them to the moon. Oh, it’s nice to kill two birds with one stone. (points to POLONIUS) Now that I’ve killed this guy, I’ll be off in a hurry. I’ll lug his guts into the next room. Mother, have a good night. This politician who was in life a babbling idiot is now quiet and serious. Come on, sir, let’s get to the end of our business. Good night, mother. 3.4.209HAMLETThere’s letters sealed, and my two schoolfellows,Whom I will trust as I will adders fanged,They bear the mandate. They must sweep my wayAnd marshal me to knavery. Let it work,For ’tis the sport to have the engineerHoist with his own petard. And ‘t shall go hard,But I will delve one yard below their mines,And blow them at the moon. Oh, ’tis most sweetWhen in one line two crafts directly meet.(indicates POLONIUS )This man shall set me packing.I’ll lug the guts into the neighbor room.Mother, good night. Indeed this counselorIs now most still, most secret, and most graveWho was in life a foolish prating knave.—Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.—Good night, mother.
Hamlet, playing a child’s game of hide and seek after hiding Polonius’ body 4.2.31.Of nothing Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after!
Hamlet jokes about the dead body = A king is nothing bettter than a beggar because everythign recycles, and the king ends up being the food of the worm, used in fishing, etc.Not where he’s eating, but where he’s being eaten. A certain CONFERENCE OF WORMSHamlet is punning on a famous event in European history, the Diet of Worms, which was a gathering convened by the Holy Roman Emperor in 1521.conference of worms is chowing down on him. Worms are the emperor of all diets. We fatten up all creatures to feed ourselves, and we fatten ourselves for the worms to eat when we’re dead. A fat king and a skinny beggar are just two dishes at the same meal. That’s all I have to say.A man can fish with the worm that ate a king, and then eat the fish he catches with that worm.In heaven. Send a messager there if you want to be sure. If your messenger can’t find him, you can check hell yourself. But seriously, if you don’t find him within the next month, you’ll be sure to smell him as you go upstairs into the main hall. 4.3.16HAMLETNot where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain convocation of politic worms are e’en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service—two dishes, but to one table. That’s the end.A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i’ th’ other place yourself. But if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
Explanation for why going off to Poland to fight for the plot of land – wealth and peace- Hamlet saying they’re diseased – Henry IV: Falstaff’s drafting of poor men to war and we need war to train people to be courageous – Insight into how SP thinking of change – everything is diseased and the disease provokes changeHAMLET(to himself) Even two thousand men and twenty-thousand ducats are just the beginning of what it will cost to settle this pointless matter. This is what happens when countries have too much money and peace. This quarrel is like an abcess that grows inside someone until it bursts and kills them, and no one knows why. (to the CAPTAIN) Thank you very much for the information, sir. 4.4.27-29HAMLETTwo thousand souls and twenty thousand ducatsWill not debate the question of this straw.This is th’ impostume of much wealth and peace,That inward breaks and shows no cause withoutWhy the man dies.—I humbly thank you, sir.
Repeating what he did in “To be or not to be” wondering about human nature/ THOUGHTS ACTION- Does hamlet ever reconcile thought and action as the play progresses?”My God! Everything I see shows me how wrong I am and tells me to hurry up and get on with my revenge. What is a human being if he just eats and sleeps? Nothing more than a beast. God didn’t create us with such a huge power of thought and a divine capacity for reason in order for us not to use them. Now, whether it’s animal-like mindlessness, or the cowardly hesitation that comes from thinking too much (thinking thoughts that are one part wisdom, three parts cowardice), I don’t know why I’m still alive to say “I have to do this deed” rather than having done it already. I have the motivation, the willpower, the ability, and the means to do it. 4.4.33-47How all occasions do inform against me,And spur my dull revenge! What is a manIf his chief good and market of his timeBe but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,Looking before and after, gave us notThat capability and godlike reasonTo fust in us unused. Now, whether it beBestial oblivion, or some craven scrupleOf thinking too precisely on th’ event—A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdomAnd ever three parts coward—I do not knowWhy yet I live to say “This thing’s to do,”Sith I have cause and will and strength and meansTo do ‘t.
Ophelia’s song; SP uses her to reveal her interiority, in this case with HamletTomorrow is St. Valentine’s Day And early in the morning I’m a girl below your window Waiting to be your Valentine.Then he got up and put on his clothes And opened the door to his room. He let in the girl, and when she left She wasn’t a virgin anymore. By the name of Jesus and Saint Charity, My goodness, what a shame it is, Young men will do it if they get a chance: By God, they’re very bad. She said, “Before you got me into bed, You promised to marry me.” He answers: “I would have married you, I swear, If you hadn’t gone to bed with me.” 4.5.46Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine. Then up he rose, and donned his clothes, And dupped the chamber door. Let in the maid that out a maid Never departed more. By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fie, for shame! Young men will do ‘t, if they come to ‘t. By Cock, they are to blame. Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me, You promised me to wed.” He answers, “So would I ha’ done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
Ophelia is distressed about her father as well, revealing more about her interiority – Not just that her father had died but that her lover had killed her father is what made her madeOPHELIA And won’t he come again? And won’t he come again? No, no, he’s dead. Go to your deathbed. He’ll never come again. His beard was white as snow, His hair was all white too. He’s gone, he’s gone, And we moan as we’re cast away. God have mercy on his soul. 4.5.193And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead, Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll. He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan, God ha’ mercy on his soul.—
– 4.5 is the last scene of the play- Laertes and Hamlet at swords- King dies when he comes into the room- Gertrude becomes insane and eventually dies- Ophelia lives- Laertes is declared king and Hamlet commits suicide We know that neoclassical period SP had to be rewirtten because of the tastes of the time:
Finding meaning; Hamlet is melancholy/has a real mental disease and he doesn’t understand it but this gives more meaning Naturalism/Realism in drama of the late 19th early 20th cs.
Letter from Hamlet to Horatio: we don’t expect pirates to show up o rhave something like this happen on purpose especially in THIS play. Why?SP places this in the play to let us know that HAMLET IS NOT IN CONTROL. 4.6.13-22″Horatio, When thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the king. They have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valor, and in the grapple I boarded them. On the instant, they got clear of our ship, so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy, but they knew what they did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb, yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England. Of them I have much to tell thee.
King speaking about the tranisency of emotion, his disbelief in love, and notion of change, here goodness is infected (118): Laertes agrees to get involved in the plot to kill Hamlet. 4.7.111CLAUDIUSLaertes, was your father dear to you?Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,A face without a heart?CLAUDIUSNot that I think you did not love your fatherBut that I know love is begun by time,And that I see, in passages of proof,Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.There lives within the very flame of loveA kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.And nothing is at a like goodness still.For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,Dies in his own too-much.
The queen’s speech: explains ophelia drowns by placing stones into her pockets and walking into a pond; the queen tries to convince everyone that it was just an accident as she was climbing on a branch above the pond, it broke, she floated before drowning 4.7.167There is a willow grows aslant a brookThat shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.There with fantastic garlands did she comeOf crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,But our cold maids do “dead men’s fingers” call them.There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weedsClambering to hang, an envious sliver broke,When down her weedy trophies and herselfFell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,And mermaid-like a while they bore her up,Which time she chanted snatches of old laudsAs one incapable of her own distress,Or like a creature native and induedUnto that element. But long it could not beTill that her garments, heavy with their drink,Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious layTo muddy death
Clowns speaking about Ophelia’s death- They think that she commited suicide- Priest in line 227 believes it was “doubtful” that she did not commit suicide- SP leaves this ambiguousYou have to intend and have the effort to commit suicide”Here’s the water, right? And here’s a man, okay? If the man goes into the water and drowns himself, he’s the one doing it, like it or not. But if the water comes to him and drowns him, then he doesn’t drown himself. Therefore, he who is innocent of his own death does not shorten his own life.” 5.1.1+Give me leave. Here lies the water. Good. Here stands the man. Good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, will he nill he, he goes. Mark you that. But if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
Throwing up skulls and bones from other bodies that are already decayed to make more room for the newly dead foks- Sings that everyone is going to die and end up intihs graveyard; leads Hamlet to get curious when corpses are buried and how long it takes them to rot and decay (ODD)Yes, SP wants us to be disgusted The First Clown’s song(digs and sings) In youth when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet To contract-o-the time, for-a-my behove, Oh, methought, there-a-was nothing-a-meet(sings) But age with his stealing steps Hath clawed me in his clutch, And hath shipped me into the land As if I had never been such.(sings) A pickax and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet, Oh, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet.(throws up another skull)Oh, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet.
Hamlet; He’s not just repulsd of the skull of hwom he knew as a child, but repressed desire to vomit and rather throws the bone onto the ground in hate- Paly expands from Hamlet’s mere mental problems- Metatheater: opens from play within a play and extends to the audience- Philosophical: death undercuts expectations to significance and special status, all of these dead people that will be used for other things (Alexander the great)- HM doesn’t know that this is ophelia’s grave in fact he doesnt know shes dead at all- embarrassing for Hamlet at the funeral? again, humans have no purpose with their special statusesHAMLETNo, not at all. Just follow the logic: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returned to dust, the dust is dirt, and dirt makes mud we use to stop up holes. So why can’t someone plug a beer barrel with the dirt that used to be Alexander? The great emperor Caesar, dead and turned to clay, might plug up a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, to think that the same body that once ruled the world could now patch up a wall! But quiet, be quiet a minute. 5.1.183Let me see. (takes the skull) Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. —Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.Dost thou think Alexander looked o’ this fashion i’ th’ earth?And smelt so? Pah! (puts down the skull)But to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it, as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust, the dust is earth, of earth we make loam—and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer barrel?Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,Should patch a wall t’ expel the winter’s flaw!But soft, but soft a while.
Divinity that shapes our ends; there is a providnece tha tmakes everything the way it isHAMLETThere was a kind of war in my brain that wouldn’t let me sleep. It was worse than being a captive in chains. Sometimes it’s good to be rash—sometimes it works out well to act impulsively when our careful plans lose steam. This should show us that there’s a God in heaven who’s always guiding us in the right direction, however often we screw up 5.2.3HAMLETSir, in my heart there was a kind of fightingThat would not let me sleep. Methought I layWorse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly—And praised be rashness for it: let us knowOur indiscretion sometimes serves us wellWhen our deep plots do pall, and that should teach usThere’s a divinity that shapes our ends,Rough-hew them how we will—
Hamlet attributes it to providence but found it in the purseHeaven helped me out with that too. I had my father’s signet ring in my pocket, with the royal seal of Denmark on it. I folded up the new document, signed it, sealed it, and put it safely back so that no one noticed any difference. The next day we had our fight at sea, and you know what happened after that. 5.2.48Why, even in that was heavin ordinant. I had my father’s signet in my purseHAMLETWhy, even in that was heaven ordinant.I had my father’s signet in my purse,Which was the model of that Danish seal.Folded the writ up in form of th’ other,Subscribed it, gave ‘t th’ impression, placed it safely,The changeling never known. Now, the next dayWas our sea fight, and what to this was sequentThou know’st already
Rosencrantz and guildenstern’s deathsMan, they were asking for it. I don’t feel guilty about them at all. They got what they deserved. It’s always dangerous when little people get caught in the crossfire of mighty opponents. 5.2.58HAMLETWhy, man, they did make love to this employment.They are not near my conscience. Their defeatDoes by their own insinuation grow.’Tis dangerous when the baser nature comesBetween the pass and fell incensèd pointsOf mighty opposites.
Hamlet again constructs himself as a revenger, trying to justify how to kill CLaudius – The tension of christian ethics keeps the tension high and complicates the revenger – must take seriously this tension between christian ethics and revengingHAMLETDon’t you think it’s my duty now to kill him with this weapon? This man who killed my king, made my mother a *****, took the throne that I hoped for, and set a trap to kill me. Isn’t it completely moral to kill him now with this sword—and an easy conscience? And wouldn’t I be damned if I let this monster live to do more harm? 5.2.63HAMLETDoes it not, think thee, stand me now upon—He that hath killed my king and whored my mother,Popped in between th’ election and my hopes,Thrown out his angle for my proper life(And with such cozenage!)—is ‘t not perfect conscienceTo quit him with this arm? And is ‘t not to be damnedTo let this canker of our nature comeIn further evil?
We defy augury ~ have to be ready when the time comes to kill Claudius. – He says, “Let Be”, which is not common to any other revenger, he just wants to let whatever happens happens.HAMLETYou’ll do no such thing. I thumb my nose at superstitions. God controls everything—even something as trivial as a sparrow’s death. Everything will work out as it is destined. If something is supposed to happen now, it will. If it’s supposed to happen later, it won’t happen now. What’s important is to be prepared. Since nobody knows anything about what he leaves behind, then what does it mean to leave early? Let it be 5.2.217Not a whit. We defy augury. There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come—the readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is ‘t to leave betimes? Let be.
Links to beginning of the play during the wedding ceremony when Hamlet wanted to, and did, wear black to the wedding and didn’t care 5.2. King’s drinkingStay, give me a drink.
Hamlet kills the king – is it revenge for his father?It seems more so for his mother’s death, which finally stirred him to do something 5.2.317Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damnèd Dane,Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?Follow my mother.
Relating both of these to revenge, sometiesm revenge is revenge, sometimes it’s about his mother or his father, but it is certainly about Hamlet himself, depending on how you look at it. – Complicates action and control an invidial has getting their act together 3.2 Camel & Weasel // 2.2 PyrrhusHAMLETDo you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?POLONIUSBy th’ mass, and ’tis like a camel indeed.HAMLETMethinks it is like a weasel.POLONIUSIt is backed like a weasel.HAMLETOr like a whale.POLONIUSVery like a whale.//
Laertes wants forgiveness after poisoning them all and oddly Hamlet grants him this (again, odd for a revenger) 5.2.330He is justly served.It is a poison tempered by himself.Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee,Nor thine on me. (dies)
Horatio thinks so. HORATIONow cracks a noble heart.—Good night, sweet prince,And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!— Does Hamlet go to heaven?