#we are arrant knaves all

[defenestratte]

Look. Some of us are just fellows crawling between earth and heaven, ok?

[shredsandpatches]

I have the feeling I'm gonna see this post all over the place in my immediate future and I think a lot of the comments that are already on it are going to be about The Rich but I think the most unsettling thing about it is that any of us can be the kind of person it describes, if only on a smaller scale--and on a societal scale those of us living in the developed world almost certainly are. In a lot of modern takes on the morality play the implicit original sin is being a citizen of the capitalist west with all the knock-on effects that entails. How can you ever even come close to unbalancing those scales? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse myself of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.

(I also don't think the answer is "overthrow society and burn it all down to fix the systemic evils at work in virtually everything we do" so idk, maybe that's part of my own particular evil?)

[auutumn]

nothing but respect for MY high lord & general of autumn.

[bethanydelleman]

Shakespeare is still relatable after hundreds of years because we have all dealt with that person who will not stop talking, take a hint, and just LEAVE:

LEONATO: I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

DOGBERRY: Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

LEONATO: There's for thy pains.

DOGBERRY: God save the foundation!

LEONATO: Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

DOGBERRY: I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

[aguavivia]

I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant knaves all. Believe none of us.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet

[arcelerity]

Report spread quickly across the battlefield, and L'Arachel was soon acquainted with two rather distressing pieces of news. The first she managed to ascertain for herself, running onto the field just in time to witness the end: Professor Merric had been felled! Perhaps, if she had been present for more of the final battle, and not so entangled with tending to her wounded allies, then it would not have been so! Curse your too-soft heart L'Arachel!

The second news, however, was far worse: that arrant knave masquerading as a teacher had ascended to the second round when she, she! Had not!

As a devout and holy woman, L'Arachel had what she considered a nigh endless well of patience and gentility. But, that ridiculous creature knew nought of either, and so she reserved none for him. Fuming, she ran her eye over the line-up for the next round, processing his name... Just underneath two that seemed somewhat familiar. Oh!

Turning on her heel she searched for a flash of antlered red.

'Pardon!' She trilled, giving unabashed chase to the young man once her sights had been set on him. Sprinting to his side, she assumed the most grave face she could muster.

'You! You fought with 'Mari' no?' He had heard her attribute that name to his icy blue counterpart 'Pon the next round you will do battle with a truly heinous man. His name is Valter...'

She paused, to process the maelstrom of frustration the name evoked in her. 'He is my arch-nemesis and were we to do battle, I fear I would eviscerate him on the spot in righteous glory!' There is no hesitation in the matter, no doubt. 'But you, my successor, you must promise me that you will give it your all! Do not allow that cur to best you!'

Though they had triumphed over Merric, she understood why now, and couldn't have felt ill-will even if she had tried very, very hard. The Gods truly did have a plan for everything!

"Oh, hi!" L'arachel, her name was? The energetic green-haired girl from the other team who'd been knocked out first. She struts up to him with a purpose, and he feels like he should be standing at attention. "Marianne, yeah. I'm Tormod!"

L'arachel launches into an intense spiel about a fiend and scoundrel; he can see the true anger in her eyes, and he nods in understanding. This is no friendly rivalry, but a bitter struggle against an awful foe.

"I shall do my utmost!" Her way of speaking is fun and contagious, and Tormod puts a fist to his chest, signifying his undying commitment. That is two of his opponents now who are relying on him to make it forward--he shall not fail! "Valter will not progress to the next round, mark my words!"

[xxkha0z]

Marcellus. Lord Hamlet!

Horatio. Heaven secure him!

Hamlet. So be it!

Marcellus. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Hamlet. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.

Marcellus. How is't, my noble lord?

Horatio. What news, my lord?

Marcellus. O, wonderful!

Horatio. Good my lord, tell it.

Hamlet. No, you will reveal it.

Horatio. Not I, my lord, by heaven!

Marcellus. Nor I, my lord.

Hamlet. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret?

Marcellus. [with Horatio] Ay, by heaven, my lord.

Hamlet. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.

Horatio. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.

Hamlet. Why, right! You are in the right! And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; You, as your business and desires shall point you, For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is; and for my own poor part, Look you, I'll go pray.

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[noxtms]

dear cherry ; we are pleased to inform you that your application for BILL WEASLEY has been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! boyd holbrook is now taken. you have twenty four hours to submit your account, or else your role will be reopened !

⧼   boyd holbrook, cis man, he/him   /   soldier, poet, king by jacob cook + and so it begins, self-admonishment heark, all bathed in strawberry lightning  !  center stage, something of a divine right.  “i am, myself, indifferent honest; i could accuse me of such things it were better my mother had not borne me. i am — -”   proud.   (  firstborn, forever limned in that gilded light  /  you are the first, my love: to be held in father’s shaking, unsteady arms, to take tentative steps and catch the edge of your forehead on the coffee table. to receive your letter, expected as it is. to glow something glorious.  oh, he’s a wonderful boy.  and you are, aren’t you  ?  pride and joy, as they put it, your parents who retire that very phrase the minute your mother’s belly swells for the second time, but there’s something about the ego trip that you hang onto, just for a while. set the curve, stay ahead of it, revel in that little pinprick that you confine to just below the candy-cane curve of your right rib. sylvia plath said it best: i took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. i am, i am, i am …   )   revengeful.   (   and you’ve done things you’re not proud of, in the name of the ire that feels like a smoldering bonfire at your very core. there’s punches thrown, and hexes spat, and hate that sits venomous and green at the tip of your tongue. someone threatens to push your brother off his broom, for the outrageous crime of catching the golden snitch a second beforehand  …  shining prefect badge be damned, you’ll go down swinging for the ones you love.   )   ambitious.   (   is this why you leave, darling  ?  it’s quite the distance, london to cairo. your mother says she doesn’t mind the time difference, nor the mileage, but there’s something like an open wound in her tearful gaze and you can’t quite meet it. dirtiest trophy on the shelf: first child to leave home  /  to break your mother’s heart in two, slick - shiny ligaments catching the light as she waves you goodbye. you think about her less than you should, she worries about you with every second breath, your ambition comes at a cost and it’s a few gray hairs at her temple.   )   with more offences at my beck than i have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.   (   you’ve grown cold, darling.  what did not kill me never made me stronger.  it only left ragged scars, something a little jaded in the way your laughter breaks off  /  did you snap like this, before  ?  sunny boy turned charming man with a temperate like spun sugar, nobody would have ever expected this of you. early mornings sat atop the rocks, watching the tide crash in  ;  the spray is brutally fresh and you can practically taste it, the wind slices at exposed flesh. gaze cast out into whitecaps like you might find something you’ve lost amongst the waves, how many times have you been here before  ?  navalgazing cannot change a fate long decided, my dear. dust yourself off, and go home to the hearth that’s cooled now that there’s nobody else to stoke it.   )   “we are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us.”    ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that WILLIAM ‘BILL’ LEANDER WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the THIRTY SEVEN year old pureblood WIZARD is a GRYFFINDOR alumnus who has gone on to be a CURSEBREAKER AT GRINGOTT’S. i’ve heard they can be quite EQUABLE & SCRUPULOUS, but i don’t know… they came off very BREVILOQUENT & MERCURIAL in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   [   claire, twenty4, aest, she/they   ]

[itspileofgoodthings]

if you ever feel like talking more about tros/ben in general and hamlet PLEASE do because they are my favorite sad princes and I want to hear all the thoughts about them ❤️

AHHHHHHHHHHHH :))))) I DO FEEL LIKE TALKING ABOUT IT MORE ;))

I JUST finished teaching Hamlet before Christmas break and I remember trying to break down Hamlet’s attitude before his death for my students, trying to point out the ways in which something very deep inside of him has changed, the ways in which his rage and grief have, if not disappeared, have calmed and quieted and he can see the role of Providence more clearly and see what he has to do and what he’s done wrong and it’s just—

I feel like what unites them is 1) that people misunderstand them. People call Hamlet a lot of the things they call Ben—“whiny”, “entitled”, “dramatic” and in both cases it’s just not true. They both have such true nobility and purity of heart and they’re both dealing with absolutely horrible family situations, in different ways, and they are both just struggling with the weight of that so much. And 2) that they both find peace.

“The rest is silence.” Ben finds that just like Hamlet does. He surrenders to it in exactly the same way.

If there is a difference it is just that there is more joy in Ben. Hamlet’s end is necessarily more tragic—the play ends with all these dead bodies scattered around him—and it’s an internal peace rather than one that radiates out of him the way it does Ben.

And I guess the biggest difference in the weight of their endings, as my romantic-loving soul sees it and totally ignoring that Hamlet still had an avenging to carry out, I’m not a legit Hamlet scholar please ignore me, is that Hamlet never gets to tell Ophelia that he loves her (again). He/the situation drove her to ruin and ..........he never gets to make that right. He couldn’t/didn’t save her and she ends up being the cost of it all. The small comfort he gets in that arena is fighting her brother over who loved her more and grappling with him literally over her tomb. (And that scene is so ridiculous but I love it so much because it just feels like such a truthful response from Hamlet—this rage and protectiveness that just wells up in him because he has no other way to grieve her because part of the reason, or a lot of the reason she’s gone IS because of him —I just.)

Ben gets romantic resolution as well as redemption (which I can’t tell you how validating That was to me on all levels because I always thought he NEeded BOTH and refused to choose which one mattered more) and when he makes it out from under the dead weight of the persona and evil actions of Kylo Ren he hasn’t crushed the one person he loves the most. He doesn’t have to deal with the knowledge that something he did hurt her. (And I don’t think he could have dealt with that, y’know?) Instead his last action is to save her and to experience and know that he’s loved back in return. WHICH HE NEEDED TO KNow. Not that it would have changed anything. He loved her anyway and always would. But that HE GOT IT BACK.

😭😭😭

[descent-of-the-lightbringers]

we are arrant knaves all; believe none of us.

[zaritarazi]

HAMLET Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? HAMLET We are arrant knaves, all. Believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.

[idgafabyou]

"I am myself indifferent honest"

"But yet i could accuse me of such thing that it were better my mother had not borne me. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all. Believe none of us."

This motherfucker really went to jail for a man he didn't even fuck 💀💀💀💀💀💀🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[excellentiamintellectus]

I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; believe none of us.

Hamlet, William Shakespeare

[auutumn]

like sir come on now.....

[gamzee]

I was going to keep this card up my sleeve for the purposes of writing the act 8 intermission, but homestuck as hamlet and fandom as ophelia is resonant. I spilled the beans on twitter so I will spill them here too.

OPHELIA: Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day? HAMLET: I humbly thank you; well, well, well. OPHELIA: My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them. HAMLET: No, not I; I never gave you aught. OPHELIA: My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord.

Cascade felt to many of us like a promise of the core ethos of a future homestuck rather than the cultural zenith it has become in retrospect. Another work like Cascade is not sustainable in the times we live in, but hauntology has fully settled in and won’t let anything come after without us remembering that beautiful, wonderful thing that happened. Many promises were made back then... many....

HAMLET: Ha, ha! are you honest? OPHELIA: My lord? HAMLET: Are you fair? OPHELIA: What means your lordship? HAMLET: That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty. OPHELIA: Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? HAMLET: Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. OPHELIA: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET: You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not. OPHELIA: I was the more deceived.

Language floats about on twitter nowadays about how it truly is our fault for our misidentification of homestuck’s real aesthetics and ambitions, and comments that specifically point out tumblr creating a false, softer homestuck feel about as gendered as hamlet’s upcoming take on cosmetics. Is fandom, or bad fandom, only cosmetic? 

My takeaway is that... yes, actually, there was something we didn’t realize about the relationship we were all getting into. Perhaps it was obscured underneath all the voices of various contributing artists; [S] Explore made me feel a sense of haunting beauty that hasn’t left over a decade later. Lexxy’s god tier jade is a wonderful painting of a happy young girl who came back to life and saved everyone, but beauty in homestuck now is about pure, unadulterated terror. Terror of beauty, and terror of each other.

(Well now I’m sounding artsy, let me just get this snippet from a PDF of the script.)

[caption; for a moment Hamlet has been touched by the sight of Ophelia with her book of prayers. yet there is estrangement in the word “Sylph” “Nymph.” She inquires for his health (having seen him yesterday); he answers as to a stranger; formally, as he does to Osric... and with some impatience; he will tell her nothing. She produces his gifts; he has been sent for by the King; Ophelia, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, has doubtless also been sent for; he falls back on his accustomed method of baffling half-truths. These toys were the gift of another Hamlet to another Ophelia-- not his.]

Homestuck begins to question the base nature of canon and the expectations held to canon, and thus everything feels a bit like evasive maneuvers re: accountability for anything that is said or done whatsoever. Baffling half-truths, questionable sincerity in open derision, like as follows;

HAMLET: 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: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? OPHELIA: At home, my lord. HAMLET: Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.

Lol, house.

OPHELIA: O, help him, you sweet heavens! HAMLET: If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. OPHELIA: O heavenly powers, restore him! HAMLET: I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. (Exit)

The suspicion fostered in narrative by the epilogues is in fact a kind of “lesson” we are to take towards all narrators and all stories. But is that any way to live-- like, no reciprocation, no honesty, no trust or gentleness-- there shall be no marriage. This sort of intertextual reading (wait is it... intertextual if it’s paired with a narrative external space? It’s not like i can just CALL Kristeva to ask) ...does kind of imply the Epilogues were inevitable and a result of homestuck’s “real” philosophies. But you still get to ask, is it a good philosophy? Hamlet agrees and he’s just a famously good and emotionally stable guy, so who’s to say. 

(My real answer is that Hegel’s m/s model was right and that mutual recognition is not only better but the best thing humans can do and strive for, and so this all feels petulant to me. But famously good and emotionally stable Ophelia drowned in a river so maybe don’t take my word for it.)

Pair with Errant Signal’s videos on The Beginner’s Guide and That Dragon Cancer if you like which both have thoughts about narrative-reader connections. (The latter discusses the former.)

Anyway, this should be my new twitter bio;

OPHELIA: O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

[thehamletaesthetic]

HAMLET ACT THREE SCENE ONE part five

Oph.: I was the more deceived.

Ham.: 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. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all, believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?

Oph.: At home, my lord.

Ham.: Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.

Oph.: O help him, you sweet heavens!

Ham.: If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. Farewell.

Oph.: O heavenly powers, restore him!

Ham.: I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another. You jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

[Exit HAMLET.]