#where he saw the king hamlet that gertrude once loved

[hamletkin]

thinking about a very young hamlet holding his father's sword for the first time. it's much too big for him and he strains to hold it up. he wears his father's helmet and it wobbles and doesn't fit on his head. the king laughs and says he'll grow into it but he never does. as he grows it becomes evident he's more scholar than soldier. but he never forgets that moment. he never forgets the sight of his father's rare smile and the pride in his voice though, of course, both become hazy over time. especially his voice. and when his father dies and he thinks back to that day he can no longer remember accurately the sound of his voice at that moment. the sound of his laugh. the sound of him speaking through a brief smile. all he's left with is the weight of the sword which now weighs against his heart

[thehamletdiaries]

Hi! I just saw your post about your love for Hamlet and you mentioned learning to hate his father. I'd love to read more of your thoughts on his father (no pressure to reply, of course).that's just a character I've never really thought about much

Hi!

So sorry for taking an extraordinarily long time to respond to you for no particular reason. So the short version of this answer is; Hamlet is absolutely not a character who was fine before the events of the play. He is deeply insecure in a way that speaks not just to the immediate trauma he has experienced but to a much longer term experience and obviously I don't know this is the fault of his father, but his experience to me rings very true of a kid who has never felt good enough for his father - he certainly sees his father as this war like king and himself as not masculine enough and inadequate because of that - now of course he could have these insecurities without it being directly his father's fault, but everything about him in the play screams, to me, that his father made him feel like he was not good enough and that desire to prove himself to a father he never felt good enough for takes us into who Hamlet is in the play.

Now, what I do *know* that King Hamlet does, because it happens in the play, is the catalyst for the play where he visits Hamlet and tells him to kill his uncle. Now, being murdered, at the risk of sounding flippant, must be pretty awful. But at the end of the day we don't get the impression this man is stupid; by launching his son into this revenge mission he is setting off the course of the action which leads to his son's death. And we can't know this - and frankly it depends on the way the play is done - but I think, textually, it is fairly clear that Hamlet is in far less danger before he sees the ghost than after; Claudius and Gertrude don't have children and are unlikely to have them and they want Hamlet to be on their side. The ghost prioritises his own revenge over his son's safety and I don't think that's unforgivable.

Furthermore, I'd argue that the ghost's reappearance in the scene with Hamlet and Gertrude is what spurs Hamlet into the action that causes him to kill Polonius - so that's also fairly awful.

EDIT: @lizardrosen has pointed out that the killing of Polonius happens before the ghost appears, so ignore that point. You could still make the argument that the ghost coming back is what drive Hamlet to kill R&G and pushes him into all the actions that lead to the end of the play, but I also think that once he's killed Polonius he is on a downward spiral that maybe didn't need the ghost to push him for him to continue to fall.

[hamletandthegang]

The Eavesdroppers

Claudius and Polonius stood outside Ophelia’s door, frantically jamming the key in and quickly slipping inside. Polonius had seen Hamlet and Ophelia walking back to her room, and notified Claudius so that they could watch. They locked the door back silently, and the two adult-sized men stuffed themselves into Ophelia’s small closet space. Luckily for them, she kept it neat. If they had tried to cram into Hamlet’s closet, they would not have been so lucky. Polonius tried to shut the door, but it wouldn’t close all the way due to the mass of the King, so he just held it shut and prayed Ophelia didn’t open it.

As soon as they heard the couple’s voices and the door jiggling, they hushed each other and squeezed further into the tight space. The door opened, and Ophelia was laughing at something Hamlet had said. She tossed her keys onto the table, and sat down on the stool by her desk. Hamlet followed, and sat down in a chair that was by the table. They talked and laughed, not realizing the two large men that were right next to them.

“So, how’s everything been going with your dad?” Hamlet asked. Polonius froze. Hamlet had been hoping she wouldn’t be yelled at for kissing him at the party.

“It’s,” Ophelia hesitated, searching for words. “It’s fine I guess. He didn’t yell at me for the whole thing on New Year’s Eve, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Hamlet said, relieved that he hadn’t gotten her into trouble (he would eventually).

“Yeah, I think we’ve been on pretty good terms right now, actually,” Ophelia said brightly.

At the worst time imaginable, Claudius sneezed.

Hamlet and Ophelia sat up.

After a few seconds, Ophelia waved it off as being someone outside the room, but Hamlet wasn’t convinced. He recognized it as his uncle’s.

“Ophelia? Where’s your dad?” he asked, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. Polonius and Claudius held their breath.

“Uh, I’m not sure. He’s probably with the king right now.”

“Okay.” Hamlet sat back in his chair. Maybe he was just paranoid, but he thought he had seen the closet door jerk when the someone had sneezed. He stood up, and went to get a glass of water from the sink. “So when did Rosencrantz say he wanted to take the van out? I heard him talking about a joyride earlier.” Hamlet walked over to the closet door with his drink, and leaned up against it. When it didn’t close all the way, and it seemed to be resisting his weight, he had his answer.

“I think he said tomorrow if it doesn’t rain again,” Ophelia answered, not realizing what Hamlet had discovered.

Hamlet motioned to Ophelia and mouthed that it was her dad.

She thought he had asked her a question, and said, “Oh yeah, I know.”

Hamlet nodded, and sat back down in his chair. He thought about what to do, and why on earth Polonius and Claudius were listening to them. It dawned on him that it was probably what Ophelia had mentioned earlier, about her dad and his uncle trying to “monitor” him, whatever that meant.

So Hamlet decided to give them a show. They had front row seats, after all.

He stood up and started pacing. Ophelia looked at him funny, and returned to scrolling on her tumblr page. Then, he crawled on top of the small table that Ophelia had in her makeshift kitchen. He crouched on it like a crab, and out of the corner of his eye, spotted the closet door shift open just an inch further. The fish was biting. Better reel it in.

Ophelia sat up and stared at him, “What are you doing? Get down from there!” She said playfully. Ophelia stood up and walked to the table. Hamlet was certainly one for the dramatics, and Ophelia knew that, so she didn’t think it more unusual than his daily antics. “Are you doing okay up there?” Ophelia laughed.

“Yes, quite well. Quite well,” Hamlet stared at the closet door. “Quite… well.”

“Oookay then,” Ophelia said, then sighed. “Get off the table, Hamlet. What are you even doing up there?”

“Nothing.”

“So can you get down?”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“You’d do it if you loved me,” Ophelia said, sticking out her lip and batting her eyes.

“Well,” Hamlet thought, and had an idea. “I suppose I don���t.”

“You don’t love me?” Ophelia asked, still playful, but with hesitation in her voice.

“Nope. Never did, never will.” Hamlet said, not looking away from the door.

Ophelia grew tired of the charade. “Hamlet, get down and stop acting weird.”

Hamlet threw back his head and laughed. “Are you pure?”

“Excuse me?” Ophelia stopped.

“Are you pretty?”

“Hamlet, stop it,” She warned.

“You cannot be both pretty and pure, prettiness makes a girl a whore.”

“What on earth are you talking about?! I’m not cheating on you if that’s what you mean!” Ophelia stood up from her chair.

“Ahhhh,” Hamlet sighed. “It makes sense now. I used to love you, I think.”

Ophelia started to feel dread pour into her stomach. Is Hamlet breaking up with me?

“Seeing as how you asked me out in the first place, I thought you did!”

“Weeelllllll, I didn’t!” Hamlet sung, and stuck his hands on his hips. He winked at Ophelia, trying to tell her that she was doing good.

Ophelia just stared at him. She didn’t know what to say.

Hamlet peeked at the door. He was winning. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw his father’s ghost staring at him by Ophelia’s bed.

Hamlet shouted, and watched as the ghost placed a finger on his lips to silence him, and faded into thin air.

Hamlet jumped off the table and ran to where the ghost had been, but nothing was there. Ophelia, in an attempt to get out of his way, backed into the wall.

Hamlet swung around wildly, looking for the ghost that was there mere moments before. He found nothing. The vision had drawn up the memories from that night in the ruins with Horatio. Hamlet shut his eyes, and let the memories flood in. His father had been murdered by his uncle. Murdered. That word stuck out in his mind. It was his job to avenge his father. His job, and his job alone.

Hamlet saw Ophelia, staring wide-eyed at him from the other side of the room. She looked scared. Hamlet had scared her. Hamlet would just be putting her in danger by avenging his father. Claudius and Polonius would stop at nothing to retain power, and Ophelia would be in the way of that. Hamlet had to distance himself from her, for her own safety.

Hamlet turned back to Ophelia. Hamlet stumbled over to her, and caught her in a hug. She didn’t move.

“You have to stay away from me,” Hamlet whispered into her ear. “I’m dangerous. I’m a terrible person. You shouldn’t be around me. You have to stay away, go somewhere, go anywhere, just-” Hamlet’s voice broke.

Ophelia couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what was happening. Hamlet had forgotten about the spies nearby, and was later-focused on telling her this. But what did it mean?

Hamlet stumbled backwards away from her. She leaned against the wall to support her weight. Ophelia felt like she was drowning.

“Hamlet,” Ophelia said quietly. “What are you talking about? I’ll help you in whatever it is. I don’t mind to be in danger, if I’m doing it with you.” She stepped forward, and held out her hand for him to take it.

Hamlet looked at Ophelia, finally lost for words. She was offering to help him, to stay by his side and even to put herself in danger, all for his sake. It was too much, and he sank to his knees. He caught sight of the closet door, and remembered the rats that were inside.

Hamlet yelled. An ear-piercing, angry, shout, that shook Ophelia to her core. She immediately backed up, until she hit the wall. Hamlet advanced towards her, and put his hands roughly on her shoulders, slightly pushing her more against the wall. Ophelia shut her eyes, trembling to think of what was about to happen.

But nothing did. Hamlet just stood there, looking at her like he could see her soul. And oh, he thought she was beautiful.

“No more weddings,” Hamlet whispered. “No more marriages, it’s driving me mad.” He meant Gertrude and Claudius’ hasty marriage, although Ophelia didn’t connect that. Hamlet shouted again, and Ophelia flinched. She sniffled, and quickly started crying silently as she was held up against the wall. Hamlet was surprised by the sudden tears, and it snapped him out of his intensity.

He clasped Ophelia’s arms, trying to make her stop. He couldn’t bear to see her cry. She just shut her eyes again, and put her head up against the wall. Hamlet shook her slightly, not hard, but Ophelia went limp, being held there by Hamlet’s grip.

“Please,” Hamlet said. “Get away from me. Go to a nunnery, a shelter, anything. Just don’t get hurt.” And Hamlet let go, and turned away from her.

The sudden release left Ophelia on the ground. Hamlet looked at her once again, and ran out of the room.

Ophelia burst into tears. She could’ve stayed there a hundred years, sobbing, if her father hadn’t suddenly and roughly jerked her up from the ground.

“Dad?!” Ophelia gasped for breath. “What are you-” She stopped when she saw the king.

“That did not seem like love, Polonius. Are you sure?” Claudius asked.

“He’s not crazy,” Polonius said, stroking his chin and thinking. “He’s doing something, I just don’t know what it is yet. Ophelia!” Polonius shouted, turning to her abruptly. Ophelia almost fell over. “What’s something that would hurt Hamlet, you know him pretty well? Something like a chink in his armor that we can use against him.”

“What?!” Ophelia said, bewildered at the request. “I’m not telling you that! Hamlet is fragile, you can’t hurt him so personally!”

“Ophelia,” Polonius growled. “The King needs this information. Now, what is something that can be used against Hamlet! Do you want him to hurt you again?!” Polonius, still with a tight hold on Ophelia’s arm, began turning it painfully. He broke into a slick smile. “We just need you to help us help him get back in his right mind. If you give up some information about him, we can help him so he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.” Ever again, he wanted to add, but stopped himself. “Aren’t you mad at him? HE hurt you, just now! You can make him stop, if you help us!”

Ophelia’s arm was now in a very uncomfortable position. She didn’t know how her father knew all this, she didn’t know what was going on, and she just wanted the pain to stop.

“Fine!” She shouted, and Polonius released her. She fell backwards, and hit the floor again, this time more painfully.

Polonius knelt down beside her, waiting like some kind of beast for his prey to give up. Ophelia rubbed some tears off her face, and took a deep breath. “Horatio,” she said, appalled at herself for saying it. “He listens to Horatio, and would do anything for him.”

Polonius shot up, and celebrated with Claudius about the newfound clue. “This is perfect!”

“But please don’t hurt him!” Ophelia interrupted, realizing what she just did. “I don’t want to see any of my friends get hurt. You can’t do anything to him!” She yelled desperately.

Polonius smiled at her pitifully. “Don’t worry, both boys will be perfectly fine.”

And with that, Polonius and Claudius left the room, and their footsteps echoed away down the hall.

Ophelia didn’t have the strength to stand. Hot, angry tears flooded down her face, and she quietly bent over and sobbed. No one heard, and no one came. Ophelia cried alone on the carpet of her apartment.

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

[makerof150papermasks]

Hamlet Mariofied Act 3 Scene 2

Bolded names refer to the Mario characters playing the roles. The character role names remain the same in the context of the play and its dialogue.

Mario = Hamlet

Birdo = First Player

Diddy Kong, Dixie Kong = Other Players

Kamek = Polonius

Wario = Rosencrantz

Waluigi = Guildenstern

Luigi = Horatio

Bowser = Claudius

Peach = Gertrude

Wendy = Ophelia

Amazing Flyin’ Hammer Bro, Buster Beetle, Whimp = Lords Attendant

Terrapin, Hammer Bro, Fire Bro, Ice Bro, Boomerang Bro, Sledge Bro, Armored Koopa (Koopatrol), Terra Cotta = Guards

Mouser, Fryguy = Trumpeters

Clawgrip, Tryclyde = Drummers

Gooper Blooper, King Bob-omb, Eyerok, Boss Wiggler = Hautboys

Wart = Player King

Rosalina = Player Queen

Mallow = Lucianus Player

Morton, Roy, Ludwig, Booster = Mutes

Act III, Scene 2

Elsinore. Hall in the Castle.

Enter Mario and three of the Players [Birdo, Diddy Kong, and Dixie Kong]. Tune to Overworld Theme from Super Mario Bros 2

Mario. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you,

trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our

players do, I had as live 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 your passion, you must acquire and beget a

temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the

soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to

 tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who

(for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb

shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing

Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it.

Birdo. I warrant your honour.

 Mario. 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 unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious

grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance

 o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I

have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to

speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of

Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so

strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's

 journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated

humanity so abominably.

Birdo. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir.

Mario. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns

speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them

 that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren

spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary

question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous

and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go

make you ready.

 [Exeunt Players.]

Enter Kamek, Wario, and Waluigi. Music of Muda Kingdom from Super Mario Land.

How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work?

Kamek. And the Queen too, and that presently.

Mario. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Kamek.] Will you two

 help to hasten them?

Wario. [with Waluigi] We will, my lord.

Exeunt they two.

Mario. What, ho, Horatio!

Enter Luigi.

Luigi. Here, sweet lord, at your service.

Mario. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man

As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.

Luigi. O, my dear lord!

Mario. Nay, do not think I flatter;

 For what advancement may I hope from thee,

That no revenue hast but thy good spirits

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee

 Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice

And could of men distinguish, her election

Hath seal'd thee for herself. For thou hast been

As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing;

 A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those

Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled

That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger

To sound what stop she please. Give me that man

 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him

In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee. Something too much of this I

There is a play to-night before the King.

One scene of it comes near the circumstance,

 Which I have told thee, of my father's death.

I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,

Even with the very comment of thy soul

Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt

Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

 It is a damned ghost that we have seen,

And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;

For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,

And after we will both our judgments join

 In censure of his seeming.

Luigi. Well, my lord.

If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,

And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

Sound a flourish. Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish

 march. [nter Bowser, Peach, Wendy, Wario, Waluigi,

and other Lords attendant, with the Guard carrying torches. Commence character select screen from Super Mario Bros 2

Mario. They are coming to the play. I must be idle.

Get you a place.

Bowser. How fares our cousin Hamlet?

 Mario. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air,

promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so.

Bowser. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not

mine.

Mario. No, nor mine now. [To Kamek] My lord, you play'd once

 i' th' university, you say?

Kamek. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

Mario. What did you enact?

Kamek. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol; Brutus

kill'd me.

 Mario. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be

the players ready.

Wario. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience.

Peach. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

Mario. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive.

Kamek. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that?

Mario. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

[Sits down at Wendy’s feet.]

Wendy. No, my lord.

Mario. I mean, my head upon your lap?

 Wendy. Ay, my lord.

Mario. Do you think I meant country matters?

Wendy. I think nothing, my lord.

Mario. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

Wendy. What is, my lord?

 Mario. Nothing.

Wendy. You are merry, my lord.

Mario. Who, I?

Wendy. Ay, my lord.

Mario. O 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 's two hours.

Wendy. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.

Mario. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a

suit of sables. 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. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or else

shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose

epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!'

[Hautboys play. The dumb show enters.]

 Enter Wart and Rosalina very lovingly; Rosalina embracing

him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation

unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her

neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing

him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his

 crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and

leaves him. Rosalina returns, finds Wart dead, and makes

passionate action. Mallow with some three or four Mutes,

comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is

carried away. Mallow wooes the Queen with gifts; she

 seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts

his love.

Exeunt.

Wendy. What means this, my lord?

Mario. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief.

 Wendy. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

Enter Prologue. Cue Delfino Airstrip.

Mario. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel;

they'll tell all.

Wendy. Will he tell us what this show meant?

 Mario. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to

show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

Wendy. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.

Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,

Here stooping to your clemency,

 We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.]

Mario. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

Wendy. 'Tis brief, my lord.

Mario. As woman's love.

Enter Wart and Rosalina

Wart. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round

Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,

And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen

About the world have times twelve thirties been,

Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,

 Unite comutual in most sacred bands.

Rosalina. So many journeys may the sun and moon

Make us again count o'er ere love be done!

But woe is me! you are so sick of late,

So far from cheer and from your former state.

 That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,

Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;

For women's fear and love holds quantity,

In neither aught, or in extremity.

Now what my love is, proof hath made you know;

  And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;

Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Wart. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;

My operant powers their functions leave to do.

 And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,

Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind

For husband shalt thou-

Rosalina. O, confound the rest!

Such love must needs be treason in my breast.

 When second husband let me be accurst!

None wed the second but who killed the first.

Mario. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood!

Peach. The instances that second marriage move

Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.

 A second time I kill my husband dead

When second husband kisses me in bed.

Wart. I 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 forget

To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.

 What to ourselves in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.

The violence of either grief or joy

Their own enactures with themselves destroy.

Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;

 Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange

That even our loves should with our fortunes change;

For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,

Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

 The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,

The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies;

And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,

For who not needs shall never lack a friend,

And 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 run

That 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.

Rosalina. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light,

Sport and repose lock from me day and night,

To desperation turn my trust and hope,

 An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope,

Each opposite that blanks the face of joy

Meet what I would have well, and it destroy,

Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

 Mario. If she should break it now!

Wart. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile.

My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with sleep.

Rosalina. Sleep rock thy brain,

 [He sleeps.]

Rosalina. And never come mischance between us twain!

Exit.

Mario. Madam, how like you this play?

Peach. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

 Mario. O, but she'll keep her word.

Bowser. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?

Mario. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th'

world.

Bowser. What do you call the play?

 Mario. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the

image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name;

his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of

work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free

souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our withers

 are unwrung. Enter Mallow.

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.

Wendy. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

Hamlet. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see

the puppets dallying.

 Wendy. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

Mario. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

Wendy. Still better, and worse.

Mario. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox, leave

thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth

 bellow for revenge.

Mallow. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property On wholesome life usurp immediately.

Pours the poison in his ears. Play The Sword Descends and The Stars Scatter from Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars

Mario. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago.

The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You

 shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

Peach. The King rises.

Mario. What, frighted with false fire?

Peach. How fares my lord?

Kamek. Give o'er the play.

 Bowser. Give me some light! Away!

All. Lights, lights, lights!

Exeunt all but Mario and Luigi. Cue underground music from Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island.

Mario. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play;

 For some must watch, while some must sleep:

Thus runs the world away.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of my

fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my raz'd

shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

 Luigi. Half a share.

Mario. A whole one I!

For thou dost know, O Damon dear,

This realm dismantled was

Of Jove himself; and now reigns here

 A very, very- pajock.

Luigi. You might have rhym'd.

Mario. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand

pound! Didst perceive?

Luigi. Very well, my lord.

 Mario. Upon the talk of the poisoning?

Luigi. I did very well note him.

Mario. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders!

For if the King like not the comedy,

Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.

 Come, some music!

Enter Wario and Waluigi.

Waluigi. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

Mario. Sir, a whole history.

Waluigi. The King, sir-

 Mario. Ay, sir, what of him?

Waluigi. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd.

Mario. With drink, sir?

Waluigi. No, my lord; rather with choler.

Mario. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to

 the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps

plunge him into far more choler.

Waluigi. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start

not so wildly from my affair.

Mario. I am tame, sir; pronounce.

 Waluigi. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit

hath sent me to you.

Mario. You are welcome.

Waluigi. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed.

If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do

 your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return

shall be the end of my business.

Mario. Sir, I cannot.

Waluigi. What, my lord?

Mario. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir, such

 answer as I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say,

my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you

say-

Wario. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into

amazement and admiration.

 Mario. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no

sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart.

Wario. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.

Hamlet. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any

further trade with us?

 Wario. My lord, you once did love me.

Mario. And do still, by these pickers and stealers!

Wario. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely

bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to

your friend.

 Mario. Sir, I lack advancement.

Wario. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself

for your succession in Denmark?

Mario. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is something

musty.

 [Enter Diddy Kong and Dixie Kong with recorders. ]

O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why do

you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me

into a toil?

Guildenstern. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

 Mario. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?

Waluigi. My lord, I cannot.

Mario. I pray you.

Waluigi. Believe me, I cannot.

Mario. I do beseech you.

 Waluigi. I know, no touch of it, my lord.

Mario. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your

fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it will

discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.

Waluigi. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I

 have not the skill.

Mario. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You

would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would

pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my

lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music,

 excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it

speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a

pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me,

you cannot play upon me.

[Enter Kamek.]

God bless you, sir!

Kamek. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently.

Mario. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?

Kamek. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed.

Mario. Methinks it is like a weasel.

 Kamek. It is back'd like a weasel.

Mario. Or like a whale.

Kamek. Very like a whale.

Mario. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the

top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by.

 Kamek. I will say so. Exit.

Mario. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends.

Exeunt all but Mario. Tune from Corona Mountain reverberates.

'Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out

 Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood

And do such bitter business as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!

O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever

The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.

 Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites-

How in my words somever she be shent,

To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit.

[the-mad-prince-of-denmark]

hamlet hcs for childhood, dream, role and forgive!

Childhood-

I feel like Hamlet was an absolute nightmare of a child. He’s both a prince (super pampered, can do pretty much whatever), AND he’s the son of a warrior king. He probably spent most of his childhood idealizing the crap out of his father. When Gertrude insists that he start learning to fence, it’s more a safety measure than anything. And least now he’ll know the proper way to wield a sword.

Dream-

Throughout his life, Hamlet has always suffered from terrible nightmares. Born from the stress of being a prince, the stress of study, the stress of false madness, the stress of real madness…

When he was young, and woke up screaming in the middle of the night, a servant would always rush in to comfort him. The next day, he would usually tell Ophelia or Laertes what he could remember of his dream.

As he got older, it was Laertes, and then Horatio, who would be there, when he woke up in the middle of the night.

After his father died, his nightmares only worsened. Thank god, if he truly was listening, for Horatio’s return.

Role-

As a child, Hamlet believed his ultimate role was to follow in his fathers footsteps, and become a good king and a great warrior. When he got to college, he only ever made use of his title in order to get out of things (or get things for free). He liked not automatically being recognizable as The Prince. He liked that people who didn’t know him saw him and Horatio as equals.

Forgive-

Hamlet tries so hard to forgive his mother. He reminds himself of those rare nights growing up, when she break her cold exterior to bandage his scraped knees and his calloused hands. The handful of times she would personally come into his room and tuck him into bed. Once, when he was six, there had been a terrible battle, and no one knew yet if the king was still alive. On that night, Gertrude had scooped Hamlet out of his bed and taken him to her room, where she slept with him in her arms the whole night.

Hamlet’s father had been kind and loving and supportive. He had been there for Hamlet, to show him how much he cared, all throughout his life. But it was these few solitairy moments with his mother, sprinkled throughout his childhood, that Hamlet could remember perfectly.

He tried so hard to cling to the warmth of these moments, as he watched his mother kiss his uncle. But all it served to do was grab the hilt of grief and sorrow and burry the blade deeper and deeper into his heart.

[fweet-prince]

Oh hey I’m doing a part of my capstone on this! Long story short, people have been confused about whether or not Horatio is Danish since at least 1929, and there’s no consensus. G. F. Bradby (the guy who pointed it out in 1929) suggests that maybe an early-draft version of Horatio was a castle guard and Shakespeare changed his mind and made him a foreign scholar but didn’t catch all the places that suggest he’s Danish, though idk if I buy that. I think “more an antique Roman than a Dane” is really fun because it works either way—either Horatio is stating a fact of his nationality to explain his actions, or he’s rejecting Denmark as he rejects Hamlet’s last request. I’ve never heard the suggestion that he’s Norwegian specifically, I’d be really interested where you read that! I think the important thing to remember is that Shakespeare was just a guy, and just-a-guys make mistakes. I don’t know about the rough draft theory, but it seems most likely to me that he just never quite decided if Horatio was Danish.

Re: him being on the battlefield when Hamlet Sr. defeated Fortinbras Sr., that one also comes up a lot in both the is-Horatio-Danish conversation and the how-old-is-Horatio conversation (that fight happened the day Hamlet was born, so if Horatio saw and remembers it he must be considerably older), but I don’t buy that he was there. The evidence cited for that is that he recognizes the armor the ghost is wearing, but there’s no reason to think the king never sat for a portrait or brought the suit of armor home to be displayed or something. The other is that he’s seen the old king, which is even flimsier, it just suggests he’s been to Elsinore before.

And re: social class, this one’s really fun!! It’s one of my favorites!! Horatio is definitely considerably lower-class than Hamlet, though there is a lot of scholarship that misses it. He’s on “thou” terms with the castle guards! His very first interaction with Hamlet he calls himself “your poor servant ever,” and Hamlet says “sir, my good friend, we’ll change that name with you.” Hamlet wants Horatio to drop formality and talk to him as a friend, but Horatio consistently uses “you” and “my lord” and never once even calls him by name to his face. (In 4.6, he refers to “Lord Hamlet” talking to himself.) Hamlet has his whole thing in “thou art e’en as just a man” about how Horatio’s too poor to be worth flattering (in contrast to Osric, who is landed and influential so Hamlet has to put up with him), and Horatio is so careful not to misstep around nobility, and he doesn’t drop that until “flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” when he finally relents to prioritizing Hamlet’s “my best friend”-ness over Hamlet’s prince-ness in his address only after Hamlet is dead. Also worth noticing that aside from one line in 5.1 when Claudius commands him to go after Hamlet (and maybe he tells him to follow Ophelia earlier, but it’s not addressed to anyone in particular and could easily be “someone in this room who I’m in charge of, go after her”), none of the nobility (the King and Queen, the Poloniuses, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern, maybe Osric) ever speak to him or even acknowledge his presence, even when he’s very clearly part of the scene. (Osric very pointedly ignores him.) Gertrude is sure that Hamlet doesn’t love and trust anyone as much as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, which suggests that either she is truly not paying any attention or Horatio doesn’t even register as a person in Hamlet’s life. He’s practically invisible around the court! Claudius at least knows his name, that’s about the most you can say.

My point being, whether or not Horatio is Danish, he’s definitely an outsider to Elsinore, socially speaking. And that’s really important to his role in the story! The whole noble class at Elsinore is wrapped up in what’s rotten, Horatio gets left out of the plotting because he’s not important enough for anyone to have machinations against. He gets to see everything go down in a way he absolutely couldn’t if the court recognized him as Hamlet’s confidant (he’s in the room when we first see the mad Ophelia!), because no one suspects he’s watching. He’s trusted enough not to be suspicious, but also completely unremarkable to all the nobles except Hamlet.

Anyway! The point is I love Horatio so much and I have been typing this for nearly an hour instead of working on my actual capstone hdgfhdg

genuine question: is horatio danish? i keep seeing people claim that he isn’t from denmark and is instead from norway but i can’t find any definitive proof for this online or in the play. i know he was most likely on the field the day hamlet sr defeated fortinbras sr, but i don’t think that necessarily means that he was on the norwegian side, especially considering how he speaks so highly of hamlet sr and is disparaging when he speaks of fortinbras jr. if he were norwegian, i imagine he would speak worse of the danes and better of his own countrymen. 

there are only three pieces of evidence i can think of off the top of my head for a foreign-born horatio. the first is in act i scene iv lines 7-16 where horatio asks if it’s customary for there to be trumpets and cannon blasts every time the king drinks, something a danish citizen might have known (i say might because horatio is not from the court, and so therefore could just be ignorant to court customs and not a foreigner). hamlet then informs him that it is customary and says that though he is native to denmark, he doesn’t like the custom. hamlet specifying that he is native is a strange distinction to make if horatio is also a dane, because why would he feel the need to clarify that (unless for expository reasons lol)?

 the second, less strong piece of evidence for a foreign-born horatio is that he attends university at wittenberg germany, rather than a danish university. again, it’s not compelling evidence in my mind because hamlet is danish and attends the same institution. 

the weakest piece of evidence is that horatio is not a traditionally danish name, but neither are any of the names in the play, because shakespeare wasn’t overly concerned with authenticity.

anyways, any input and thoughts are much appreciated, because i could just be missing something!

[rndyounghowze]

Hamlet by Aquila Theatre at Stockton College in Galloway, NJ

Something's rotten in the state of Jersey with Aquila Theatre’s touring production of Hamlet by William Shakespeare which stopped at Stockton College for a performance. This production directed by Desiree Sanchez brings something more than Shakespeare but the question of existence itself. Hamlet is the center of a 400 year old story of woe and intrigue. Someone has murdered Hamlet’s father. Gertrude, his mother, has married Claudius, his uncle. What's worse Horatio has seen his father’s ghost has come back from the dead with a message: “I have been murdered and you must avenge my death” Add in the schemings of Polonius who thinks Hamlet is just a lovesick puppy over his daughter Ophelia, the meddling of his parents who use Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to keep tabs on him, and the well wishes of his friend Horatio and you can tell that Hamlet is soon to be torn at the seams by everyone’s expectations of him. How is he going to fulfill every obligation? Does he even want to go on at all? Desiree Sanchez as director worked together with the cast and crew to bring something visceral to the play. When someone watches Hamlet it is easy to watch with your upper brain, the one that wants to dissect it as literature. But through skillful work with actors and long work with designers to shape sound and light she presented a piece that brought us back to the caveman’s campfire. We’re watching Shakespeare in modern dress but we're also talking about the oldest questions of life, family, legacy, and what would we do to preserve each if death were crouching just outside the light in the darkness. I think that she did a wonderful job bringing actors to that dark edge while still making it something that they can do over and over while on national tour. She also seems to curate the whole picture using physical bodies, light, set, and costumes to make the whole experience. Some directors you can tell whether they favor working with actors more or whether they are just putting bodies on stage under pretty lights. Sanchez rides that line down the middle and uses all the resources at hand. That's a perfect skill to have while designing a national tour.

Our cast of eight may as well have been a cast of thousands with the kind of energy they brought to the production. Lewis Brown (Hamlet) gives us a character of struggle. He brings the full body and voice into what he does. I once always thought that Hamlet’s soliloquies were purely verbal and mental but you could tell he was leaning his whole body into it. He turned the iambic pentameter into a physical effort and showed us not only struggle with people but the struggle between the forces in his head. Lauren Drennan’s (Ophelia) did something that I never knew could happen. She made me feel sorry for Ophelia. There is always a sense of naive innocence when you talk about Ophelia and in her voice and her tone she started there but then as things got real and her life started falling apart she turned that innocence into a train wreck. She melded her voice and her body and her energy to become something that made me shiver. During her talk about the flowers I wanted to look away but found I couldn't. I wanted to run onstage, scoop her up, and take her away. Drennan brought her whole acting training to bear to make a character that made me feel guilty for sitting still. Now that was talent! Tyler La Marr (Horatio) served as a Sergeant in the Marine Corps and did two tours in Iraq. What better person to play a man do torn between duty to his country and duty to his prince. Immediately I found a man who was honorbound and struggling with those convictions usually willing to die for them but in his case brave enough to live for them. Kudos! My hat goes off to Guy de Villiers (Claudius) and Rebecca Reaney (Gertrude) who made me feel dirty as the king and queen. But it's also hard to play a king and queen that people hate but they still are captured by and have to take notice of onstage. There were times where I didn't believe their chemistry but I didn't know if that was because their characters literally had none in the story or if their performance was slightly off. I do feel however that it's something that is not as vague in most of their performances of this play. James Lavender played a host of characters from Polonius to the Ghost to the Grave Digger (as well as Osric). I want to focus on the work that he did as Polonius and the Ghost though. Playing both those fathers he brought forth the theme of legacy in the face of mortality. He brought a warmth to Polonius that I haven't seen and a tragic anguish to the Ghost that I've never seen. It really is a touching performance from such a versatile actor.

My hat is also off to Harriet Barrow and Michael Rivers who had to both play the parts of the players and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. I felt that they did the best that could playing two characters that seemed to have conflicting emotions. And motivations. In fact I don't know if the director made the right choice putting the characters together at all. But I so admire the actors for pulling off the feat this mashup presented. Barrow pulls off a wonderful performance as Marcellus and the priest. I feel that I loved Rivers’ Bernardo far more than I did his Laertes and I'm not sure that's supposed to happen. Rivers was obviously at home in Shakespeare and while one of his characters left something to be desired I truly admired his professional caliber performance.

I also want to give a lot of credit to lighting design by Joel Moritz, sound design by Andy Evan Cohen, projections by Lianne Arnold, and Lara de Bruijn’s work on costumes. Together they took a minimal touring production and made every little element have meaning. Even a shift in costume, a square of light, and a piercing shriek of sound could be a major change in psychology or plot. It's such a breathtaking piece of art that these guys have collaborated on and you must go see it!

When you're directing or producing Shakespeare you’re always wearing two hats. The first hat is the director who must become an advocate and lover of this story and bring together a team of artists on one solid mission to bring it to the stage. The second hat is one of an adaptor who must turn a five act Elizabethan script intended for an ancient stage into a two act piece of modern theatre. Unless you're directing museum theatre you're no longer performing Shakespeare in the way it was originally intended. Director Desiree Sanchez also wore these two hats and I don't envy her that job even while I celebrate her work. To adapt Shakespeare in one sense is to make no one happy. There is half the audience that is having flashbacks from years of English teachers shoving the bard down their throats and half the audience are Shakespeare devotees who have seen or read it several times and will swoon the minute they hear a soliloquy or get outraged the minute they see something they love get cut. But like I said earlier to produce Shakespeare today is to change it. So essentially half the audience won't care and half the audience wants to take you out back after the show and punish you for your “crimes”.

This is what made Sanchez’s adaptation so surprising. I first noticed something was awry when the first act was over and I saw some clamor amongst some audience members around us. The person next to me and my wife asked us “Did you notice that they cut “To Be or Not To Be”? My first reaction was to shrug and go “wait did they?” My wife, who is often far faster on the uptake than me snapped her fingers and went “that's what was missing!” The circle of humanity around us seemed a buzz. As if they were saying, “How dare they cut that one piece?” But I was desperately searching my brain trying to figure out where it was supposed to be. You have to understand that I'm a mixture of these two types of people in the audience. I was force fed Shakespeare in high school and then became a lover or him in college and grad school. I went from saying we should never produce Shakespeare again to saying we should desperately revive him and the old canon. The through line of this is that I've had to read, memorize, and discuss that speech my whole academic life. How could I have been watching Shakespeare so intently that I forget that soliloquy!

Right as the lights were going down for the second act my wife said, “We saw what they did with ‘Murder on the Nile’ I bet they’ll put it somewhere in the second act.” I was dubious but found myself silently rooting for her as the show went on. Then it came to the scene at the graveyard. We know that Claudius and Laertes have hatched a plot to kill him. We have already seen him hold the skull of a dear beloved Yoric in his hands. We see Hamlet and Laertes fight over the body of Ophelia. Most of us know the ending is coming. We know that most of these characters are not long for this world. We know that Hamlet will soon go to a grave of his own.

And then Hamlet comes on stage again with these images of life and death fresh in our minds. He comes onstage at a time where both of these predescribed factions of the audience know the plot and then begins to utter those immortal words. A silent hush fell over the audience. My wife grabbed my arm and I was shocked. Not by the audacity of changing the script but because how much weight those words had in that moment. In a graveyard of dry bones with murder plots abound where we know death is imminent Hamlet doesn't talk about life or death. He talks about existence and whether he wants to be on this or not. The sheer weight and density of that moment became so palpable that it lay like a heavy blanket over the whole audience. Sanchez didn't just awake our visceral selves in this play but got two steps ahead of our brains and played our emotions like an instrument. She made Shakespeare new to people who had seen it a million times. Maybe there were some people left in the torch and pitchfork contingent but the standing ovation at the end of the play tells me there weren't many. I got home home and looked up Hamlet and there it was in Act Three. “To be or not to be that is the question”.originally the lamenting of a young man (what my wife calls an “emo teen”) Sanchez made it into the heavy thoughts of a suffering adult. Hamlet seemed to grow up in this version. I also found a myriad of characters that I had totally forgotten were in the play. Aquila Theatre managed to make an old play, not one of my favorites even, and make it hit me where I live. Not only that it hacked my memory and made me watch the play with my emotions not my theatre degree. And for that rare and special gift I give them thanks.

[makerof150papermasks]

Hamlet Mariofied: Act 1 Scene 2

Bolded names refer to the Mario characters playing the roles. The character role names remain unchanged in the context of the play and its dialogue.

Mario = Hamlet

Luigi = Horatio

Yoshi = Marcellus

Captain Toad = Bernardo

Bowser = Claudius

Peach = Gertrude

Kamek = Kamek

Larry = Laertes

Wendy = Ophelia

King Boo = Voltimand 

Petey Piranha = Cornelius

Act 1, Scene 2

Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle.

[Enter Bowser, Peach, Mario, Kamek, Larry and his sister Wendy, King Boo, and Petey Piranha] Cue Castle/Fortress music for Super Mario World.

Bowser. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death

The memory be green, and that it us befitted

To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom

To be contracted in one brow of woe,

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature

 That we with wisest sorrow think on him

Together 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; nor have we herein barr'd

Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone

 With this affair along. For all, our thanks.

Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,

Holding a weak supposal of our worth,

Or thinking by our late dear brother's death

Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,

 Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,

He hath not fail'd to pester us with message

Importing the surrender of those lands

Lost by his father, with all bands of law,

To our most valiant brother. So much for him.

 Now for ourself and for this time of meeting.

Thus much the business is: we have here writ

To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,

Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears

Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress

 His further gait herein, in that the levies,

The lists, and full proportions are all made

Out of his subject; and we here dispatch

You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,

For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,

  Giving to you no further personal power

To business with the King, more than the scope

Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.]

Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.

Petey Piranha. [with King Boo] In that, and all things, will we show our duty.

 Bowser. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell.

[Exeunt King Boo and Petey Piranha.]

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?

You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes?

You cannot speak of reason to the Dane

 And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,

That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?

The head is not more native to the heart,

The hand more instrumental to the mouth,

Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.

 What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

Larry. My dread lord,

Your leave and favour to return to France;

From whence though willingly I came to Denmark

To show my duty in your coronation,

 Yet now I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France

And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

Bowser. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

Kamek. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave

 By laboursome petition, and at last

Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.

I do beseech you give him leave to go.

Bowser. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will!

 But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son-

Mario. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind!

Bowser. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Mario. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun.

Peach. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,

 And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Do not for ever with thy vailed lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die,

Passing through nature to eternity.

 Mario. Ay, madam, it is common.

Peach. If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Mario. 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 forc'd 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.

Bowser. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

 To give these mourning duties to your father;

But you must know, your father lost a father;

That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound

In filial obligation for some term

To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever

 In obstinate condolement is a course

Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief;

It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,

A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,

An understanding simple and unschool'd;

 For what we know must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sense,

Why should we in our peevish opposition

Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,

A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

 To reason most absurd, whose common theme

Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,

From the first corse till he that died to-day,

'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth

This unprevailing woe, and think of us

 As of a father; for let the world take note

You are the most immediate to our throne,

And with no less nobility of love

Than that which dearest father bears his son

Do I impart toward you. For your intent

 In going back to school in Wittenberg,

It is most retrograde to our desire;

And we beseech you, bend you to remain

Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,

Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

 Peach. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.

I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.

Mario. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

Bowser. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply.

Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come.

 This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet

Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,

No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day

But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,

And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,

 Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.

Flourish. Exeunt all but Mario. Prompt Underground Music from Super Mario Land 2: Six Golden Coins

Mario. O that this too too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

 His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden

That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature

 Possess 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 this

Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven

 Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him

As if increase of appetite had grown

By 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 old

With which she followed my poor father's body

Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she

(O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason

Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle;

  My father's brother, but no more like my father

Than I to Hercules. Within a month,

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears

Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,

She married. O, most wicked speed, to post

 With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!

Enter Luigi, Yoshi, and Captain Toad. Cue Overworld Music from Super Mario Bros 2

Luigi. Hail to your lordship!

 Mario. I am glad to see you well.

Horatio!- or I do forget myself.

Luigi. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

Mario. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you.

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?

 Marcellus?

Yoshi. My good lord!

Mario. I am very glad to see you.- [To Toad] Good even, sir.-

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

Luigi. A truant disposition, good my lord. 

Mario. I would not hear your enemy say so,

Nor shall you do my ear that violence

To make it truster of your own report

Against yourself. I know you are no truant.

But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Luigi. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Mario. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student.

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Luigi. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

 Mario. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!

My father- methinks I see my father.

Luigi. O, where, my lord?

Mario. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Luigi. I saw him once. He was a goodly king.

Mario. He was a man, take him for all in all.

I shall not look upon his like again.

 Luigi. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Mario. Saw? who?

Luigi. My lord, the King your father.

Mario. The King my father?

Luigi. Season your admiration for a while

 With an attent ear, till I may deliver

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Mario. For God's love let me hear!

Luigi. Two nights together had these gentlemen

(Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch

In the dead vast and middle of the night

Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father,

Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,

Appears before them and with solemn march

 Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd

By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me

 In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch;

Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

The apparition comes. I knew your father.

 These hands are not more like.

Mario. But where was this?

Yoshi. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Mario. Did you not speak to it?

Luigi. My lord, I did;

 But answer made it none. Yet once methought

It lifted up it head and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak;

But even then the morning cock crew loud,

And at the sound it shrunk in haste away

 And vanish'd from our sight.

Mario. 'Tis very strange.

Luigi. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;

And we did think it writ down in our duty

To let you know of it.

 Mario. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to-night?

Yoshi. [with Toad] We do, my lord.

Mario. Arm'd, say you?

Yoshi. [with Captain Toad] Arm'd, my lord.

Mario. From top to toe?

Yoshi. [with Toad] My lord, from head to foot.

Mario. Then saw you not his face?

Luigi. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up.

Mario. What, look'd he frowningly.

 Luigi. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Mario. Pale or red?

Luigi. Nay, very pale.

Mario. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Luigi. Most constantly.

 Mario. I would I had been there.

Luigi. It would have much amaz'd you.

Mario. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

Luigi. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Yoshi. [with Captain Toad] Longer, longer.

 Luigi. Not when I saw't.

Mario. His beard was grizzled- no?

Luigi. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Mario. I will watch to-night.

 Perchance 'twill walk again.

Luigi. I warr'nt it will.

Mario. If it assume my noble father's person,

I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

 If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,

Let it be tenable in your silence still;

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,

Give it an understanding but no tongue.

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well.

 Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Mario. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.

[Exeunt all but Mario.]

 My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well.

I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!

Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

Exit.

[curiousscallop]

Favourite character? Horatio easily

Favourite line? The more things in heaven and earth one is probs my favorite favorite but I'm putting that down for the dialogue so... hm. * "Give me that man That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this." * "Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. n Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table!" and Ophelia's mad ramblings are also all very good. * I also like "I am pigeon-livered and lack gall"

Favourite line of dialogue between two characters? * HORATIO. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange. HAMLET. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. ALSO!!! * BARNARDO. Say, what, is Horatio there? HORATIO. A piece of him. * I also quite like the exchange Horatio and Hamlet have right before the play; and of course the fishmonger convo with polonius

What are two to five versions (that can be movies, filmed stage productions or audio productions) you'd particularly recommend? tbh I haven't seen many that i like. the guys who do shakespeare in my hometown every summer did a great hamlet a few years back. there's a high school production on youtube that i was very fond of when i first got into hamlet. i hear the david tennant one is REALLY good but i've not seen it yet but i wannaaa

Favourite fanfiction or just a fanfiction you would recommend? I haven't read hamlet fanfiction since like 2020 at the latest lol i dont knowww

Pick a headcanon, any headcanon, and share it. I really like trans hamlet not just because theres potential historical basis (not really, not precisely; but i believe the person hamlet was based on may have been a woman who was disguised as a man so that she might take the throne) but also because i used to be in this hamlet gc and we had a delightful convo once about how to stage hamlet as queer as possible, and one of the discussions was about how if you have trans hamlet then that line where ophelia shows him the letters he wrote her and says his name is on them and he's like "i dont know that name :)" it can be his deadname and i just think that's fun because i like when you can fuck with shakespeare in absolutely unintended ways without changing any of the actual lines

Favourite character who is *not* a main character (obviously the definition of that is debatable but for main characters I'm going to say they are: Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia, Laertes, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius and King Hamlet's Ghost so....fav who is not one of them)? dude that's like all the characters, who's left, the guards? i do like marcellus

What is one song that reminds you of the play, for whatever reason? goodbye my danish sweetheart for presumably obvious reasons somebody to love by queen. wont explain that

When did you first discover the play and what made you fall in love with it? i was seventeen i was in the throes of what i believed to be unrequited self-effacing love with my friend my grandmother had just died and i held the book, which i stole from my hs english department's book room, inside the bosom of my dress to run from building to building in the pouring rain at her funeral and read it by a wide window lashed by the storm and overlooking the sea and my relatives kept being like "last time i saw you you were doing this same sitting in the corner reading thing but with charlottes web" and telling me about how my great grandparents or something used to go to shakespeare club. i fell in love with it because it's good and also, like, see above

If you were going to play one character in the play, who would you pick? horatio, easily.

Hamlet tag?

This is basic as fuck and if it flops it didn't happen but for everyone on Hamlet Tumblr, here are ten questions - answer as many as you want in as much detail as you want:

Favourite character? (yes, you have to pick one)

Favourite line?

Favourite line of dialogue between two characters?

What are two to five versions (that can be movies, filmed stage productions or audio productions) you'd particularly recommend?

Favourite fanfiction or just a fanfiction you would recommend?

Pick a headcanon, any headcanon, and share it.

Favourite character who is *not* a main character (obviously the definition of that is debatable but for main characters I'm going to say they are: Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia, Laertes, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius and King Hamlet's Ghost so....fav who is not one of them)?

What is one song that reminds you of the play, for whatever reason?

When did you first discover the play and what made you fall in love with it?

If you were going to play one character in the play, who would you pick?