"With the World Turning Circles Running Round My Brain..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

To be, or not to be. Aye, that's the point.
To die, to sleep, is that all? Aye, all.
No, to sleep, to dream, aye, marry, there it goes,
For in that dream of death, when we awake,
And borne again before an everlasting judge,
From whence no passenger ever returned,
The undiscovered country, at whose sight,
The happy smile, and the accursed damned.
But for this, the joyful hope of this,
Who'd bear the scorns and flattery of the world
Scorned by the right rich, the rich cursed of the poor?

...This is the version of the To be or not to be soliloquy first published in 1603. I cannot even begin to say how amused and thrilled I am. Except that I am very amused and thrilled. Because. zomg. ^__________^ Dorky.

It was published by the fellow who played Marcellus; James Shapiro says they know this because the only lines that were right were Marcellus', implying that he had actually, you know, learnt them.

But dude. There are just so. many. injokes. in Hamlet. It's not even funny (except that it really, really is). My favourite is the Caesar-Brutus/Polonius-Hamlet one, wherein the fellow who played Polonius also played Caesar, and Burbage, who played Hamlet, also played Brutus, so when Polonius says, 'I did enact Julius Caesar. I was killed i' th' Capitol; Brutus killed me,' he's talking about himself for serious. And, um, he's about to get stabbed by Brutus again.

...Not even funny.

Shapiro also points out that Hamlet's 'I prophesy th' election lights on Fortinbras; he has my dying voice' is kind of, oh, utterly ridiculous, since everybody is dead, and Fortinbras just invaded, dude. It's not like there's going to be an election. He also says--where is it, can't find it--aha, here--he also says that Hamlet's soliloquies are vastly important because Hamlet has nobody to talk to. And I quote, "His old friends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are spies and viewed with suspicion. Horatio is deeply loyal, but likes the sound of his own words a bit too much and never seems fully to understand him (you can sense Hamlet's exasperation with his friend when he tells him that there 'are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'. Given Gertrude's dependence on Claudius, she cannot be trusted either. And there's no hope of unburdening himself to his terrifying father, back from Purgatory"; he then goes on to address a great deal of reasons why Hamlet can't talk to Ophelia, either, and ends "We are all that's left". But. The sentence that grabs one's attention immediately is, of course:

'Horatio is deeply loyal, but likes the sound of his own words a bit too much'.

This is how I used to portray Horatio, long ago, when I first started writing Hamlet fanfic (to be precise, back when I was actually writing Les Mis fic and crossing it over with Hamlet. see Rosemary and Sage and Oranges); but now I interpret his character entirely differently (no, really?). It made me laugh and sulk both at once. Shapiro also goes on to point out several more examples of Horatio Just Not Getting It, most significantly at the end, when he has his 'so shall you hear of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts' speech. "Horatio's words underscore much he has failed to grasp about his friend, relative to what we know". He does, however, add that Horatio "can be excused for how much he has missed; unlike us, he has not been privy to Hamlet's soliloquies". Exactly. Anything Horatio finds out, he has to intuit.

Also, regarding the Doubt that the stars are fire poem, Shapiro says, "It's mortifying to hear this lame verse recited and it underscores the danger of baring one's soul, because Ophelia, in 'duty and obedience', has betrayed Hamlet by turning these letters over to her father". This is rather amusing if one considers the correct (read: Miss Zara's and my) cause for the bad poetry. --But seriously, he has a point. It's wretched verse and it's even wretcheder being read to Gertrude and Claudius.

...And now I will stop babbling. But I finished the book to-day, and I am devastated that it's over. But it made my weeeeeeeeeek. ^______________^

Comments

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Now I can't, but a few years ago it was entirely plausible to me, and I wrote much on the subject, I'm afraid. Mostly he doesn't talk unduly around Hamlet; but when he's telling Hamlet about his father's ghost, the whole speech is just babbly and excited, like he's telling a narrative rather than relating concisely an event; or, at least, that was my impression at the time. But most of the time, yes, really, he's just there to be Steady for Hamlet. (...I still think he is, personally.)

They are. And oh! I didn't catch that one. *giggles* Thank you.

...'Tis.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

you know, i never noticed that, the talking-about-the-ghost thing before. he doesn't seem unbearably babbly, though. just shakespearean. and you can imagine hamlet being just as excited about it, which is a little cute. (well, when you're in a room full of dead people ...)

hercules and his globe, too -- !

ay, verily. and i'm supposed to be doing my physics homework, not discussing shakespeare. 'scuseme.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

No, no, he doesn't; just very babbly. Let's see, I'll find what I wrote about it back then-- (mind, it's very bad)

Horatio positively glows.

He shakes his head. Horatio was always rather like this. A disgusting mix of eagerness and prudence. Philosophic and deep, kind and understanding; and easily excited and fond of explaining things. And explain Horatio does, far more dramatically than the situation warrants, he thinks, ending with: "I knew your father; these hands are not more like."

"But where was this?" he is able to ask at last.

Here the man Marcellus breaks in to answer.

"Did you not speak to it?" He frowns.

Horatio goes on in his dramatic, silly way again, and amongst the needless phrases, he is led to understand that Horatio spoke to it, it made to speak back, but vanished when the cock crew.

Cock crew, he mumbles in his head. What an idiotic expression. There must be a better way of saying it short of 'the cock crew'. If he were ever King, he would change that officially.

"'T is very strange," he says.

"As I do live, my honour'd lord, 't is true, and we did think it writ down in our duty to let you know of it."

"Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?"

Marcellus and the other man agree to it in unison, making perfect fools of themselves to his mind.

"Arm'd, say you?"

"Arm'd, my lord!" And this time the bloody three of them say it at once. Horatio looks about at the others, blushing.

"From top to toe?" he asks, with slight amusement.

"My lord, from head to foot!" Again, the three say it. This time, it is Marcellus who blushes.

"Then you saw not his face?" Though he hardly shows it, it is the most important question he's asked yet.

"O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up."

Thank God for Horatio. The other two men are clearly senseless.

"What, look'd he frowningly?"

"A countenance more in sorrow than in anger."

"Pale, or red?"

"Nay, very pale."

"And fix'd his eyes upon you?"

"Most constantly." Horatio cannot repress a little shiver.

"I would I had been there," he says wistfully, longing to have seen his father again - if it was his father.

"It would have much amazed you," Horatio laughs in what seems to be surprise.

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

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

Both of the other men insist "longer" at the same moment. Idiots.

"Not when I saw 't," Horatio protests.

He coughs, drawing their attention back to what is important. "His beard was grizzled, no?"

"It was, as I have seen it in his life, a noble silver'd."

"I will watch to-night. Perchance 't will walk again."

"I warrant it will!" says Horatio.

"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 require your loves. So, fare you well. Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you." He smoothes down his black tunic again, and finds the bit of rosemary in his hands. The others all speak, but he misses it. "Your loves, as mine to you; farewell," he murmurs as they begin to leave.

Quickly, he catches Horatio by the hand, and presses the rosemary between his fingers, kissing his cheek just barely. Horatio smiles at him from his lovely eyes, and then slips out with the rest.

...Very bad, and far too long, and very incoherent, but it explains a little of how I interpreted it back then. (...Well, yes.)

^____^ Those ones I catch.

--Oh, sorry...!

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

ah, that was probably the best way to explain, because you always do a rather nice job of characterizing your interpretations in fic -- you've gotten better at it, of course. :3 i see how it works. ... rich that hamlet can think horatio is overdramatic, though.

:3 :D :D :D globe references are love. i'd make a colorbar, but i need to stay away from photoshop for a while.

-- notice how i'm still not doing it? XD

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

I hope I've gotten better at it, at any rate... x____X But yes. ...Er. That Hamlet is very full of himself, I promise. He gets worse.

Bweeeeeee...! Oh, that's a pity, Miss.

--With pleasure, yes.