Act One Scene Three
Sub
Scene One
Brotherly
love
Laertes
not formally introduced was a fine specimen of manhood, designed with wide
shoulders and towering height. He was trained in the art of playwright as a
writer and producer with a dabble in directing actors. His fame was as wide as
Hamlet but they never clashed in the areas of performance. He remained an icon
of the society pages in contrast to Hamlet who was a recluse. Laertes was
splashed across the headlines with the who’s who of the plays, and course the
sordid tabloids of his numerous scandals.
Laertes
was cushioned from the scandals by his father's influence, the Great Chamberlain
who also cover the interest of the Hamlets’. He was back in Denmark at the
request of his father to attend both the funeral and coronation there.
“A
death and another union? I thought my scandals were more pleasing to read than
that.” Laertes dressed smartly in the pin-striped suit was trying to latch his
suitcase for his departure from the castle. He was in the assigned chamber at
the castle and was seen on his departure by his only sister, Ophelia.
The
latter had bloomed into adulthood, with her face hardly seen in the news,
except for charitable events. She was the patron of several organizations for
children's welfare. She was with the trust created by her father, and the
immense funds were sufficient to give her enough support for her lifestyle.
“I
wished you could stay on. I will be left alone here.” Ophelia dressed in the
simple yellow chiffon knee-length style and matching flat shoes. Unlike him,
Ophelia avoided fashionable designs.
“My
necessaries are embarked. Farewell. And, sister, as the winds give benefit and
convey is assistant, do not sleep but let me hear from you.” Laertes drew the
cover of the suitcase open. He drew out the offending piece that was stuck at
the side.
“Dainty
bugger but alluring to bring forth my attention once more.” Laertes flung the
piece across the chamber. “Sis, you should try one of those. It won’t cut into
your buttocks like the cotton ones you wear.”
“My
preference is of my own.” Ophelia kept her hair design to the simple bob-cut
above her ear’s lobes. “And stop rummaging into my clothes. They are mine and
mine alone.”
“Whatever it may be. I was just advising
you on your choices.” Laertes returned to his packaging. “My belongings are on
the ship. Goodbye. And, sister, as long as the winds are blowing and ships
are traveling, make sure to send me the news.”
“Have you been listening?” Ophelia
snapped at her brother. “Father has asked me to stay back now even though
Hamlet is here.”
“I
thought you like him?” Laertes looked at his sister. “Not that I consent. He
may be my childhood friend, but we grew apart.” Laertes paused in his packing.
“He went weird after puberty.”
“Hamler
was your friend,” Ophelia told the brother of hers.
“Yes,
I knew him well. Even down to his pubic hair count.” Laertes said. “For Hamlet
and the trifling of his favor, hold it a fashion and a toy in blood.”
“To
him, a violet in the youth of primary nature. Forward, not permanent, sweet,
not lasting.” Laertes walked over to pick up the dainty piece. He took a whiff
of the scent. “I need to keep this. She may come back for desserts.”
“Now
that is Hamlet. The perfume and suppliance of a minute. No more.” Laertes
added.
“No
more but so?” Ophelia raised the doubt. “No more than a single minute?”
“Think it no more.”
Laertes tossed the dainty piece once more. “For nature, the crescent does not
grow alone. In the wilds and bulk, but, as this temple waxes…. The inward
service of the mind and soul grows wide within.”
“Perhaps he loves you now,” Laertes
placed his right thumb over his lips.
“And now no soil nor cartel doth besmirch
the virtue of his will, but you must fear. His greatness weighed, his will is
not his own, For he is subject to his birth. He is Hamlet as I am the Adonis.”
“He may not, as unvalued persons do, carve
for himself, for on his choice depends the safety and health of this whole
state.” Laertes pondered on his words. “Remarkable selection of words but what
does it mean?”
“Hmmm… And therefore must his choice be
circumscribed into the voice and yielding of that body, whereof he is the
head. Then if he says he loves you, it may fit your wisdom so far to
believe it. As he in his particular act and place.”
“May give his saying deed, which is no
further than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your
honor may sustain if with too credent ear you list his songs. Or lose your
heart, or your chaste treasure open to his unmastered importunity.” Laertes
cautioned his sister. “Your vanity is my concern.”
“Fear it, Ophelia! Fear it, my dear
sister! And keep you in the rear of your affection,” Laertes run the length and
width of the chamber as if he was performing an exorcism.
“Out of the shot and danger of desire,
the chariest maid is prodigal enough but if she unmasks her beauty to the moon.”
Laertes sighed. “Virtue itself ’scapes not calumnious strokes. The canker galls
the infants of the spring to take oft before their buttons are disclosed.”
“And in the morn and liquid dew of youth,
contagious blastments are most imminent. They are alike to a sudden strike. It
dulls the senses. Best safety lies in fear. Find youth to itself rebels, though
none else near.”
“My dear brother, you are not writing a
play on the stage and I know of your intents for I am still pure in me, but not
tempestuous to the wiles of pleasures.” Ophelia sighed. “I am no old maid.”
“Ophelia, think of it that way, at least,”
Laertes spoke from experience. “When a youth becomes a man, it’s not just his
body that grows in size.”
Laertes turned his frame to display his
masculinity.
“So do the responsibilities that weigh on
his mind and soul. Perhaps he loves you now,” Laertes frowned at his expression.
“Nothing stains the purity of that love; well, not yet. But you must take into account that he cannot
make his own decisions. He is bound by the needs of the royal family; his
inherited legacy I am afraid.”
“Hamlet can’t just choose whomever he wants—because
the choice he makes could affect the safety and security of the entire estate. He
must do what is right for the family that he leads when he makes his choice.”
Laertes looked pensive. “He could be impotent too.”
“Laertes! I shall not …” Ophelia turned
to leave but was stopped by Laertes.
“So,
if he says he loves you, it would be smart for you to understand that his words
can’t mean any more than what the needs of Denmark allow it to mean. Then
think about how it would stain your reputation if you believe his words of
love, …. or fall in love, …. or give up your virginity to him.”
“Do
be careful, Ophelia. Be careful, my dear sister. Keep your feelings under
control, and keep yourself free from the danger of his desire. Avoid exposing
your beauty, even to the moon. Your reputation can be ruined if other people
even think that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Too often, worms or
disease ruin flowers before they blossom—and young flowers are the most
vulnerable. Be careful. You will be safest if you maintain a healthy
fear. Young people can lose their self-control without any outside help.”
“I
shall the effect of this good lesson keep as a watchman to my heart. But,
good my brother, do not, as some ungracious pastors do; show me the steep and
thorny way to heaven. Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine, himself the
primrose path of dalliance treads. And recks not his rede.” Ophelia took her
final stand then.
“I
fear a drip in the air pressure deadens my hearing.” Laertes feigned deafness.
“I
shall repeat here. I’ll take your wise words and hold them close to my
heart. But, my good brother, don’t be like a bad priest who does not
follow his advice, preaching about the need to follow the strict and righteous
path to heaven while—like a reckless playboy—he pursues pleasure.”
“Fear
me not. I have your concern on my heart.” Laertes heard the once familiar
footsteps. “I stay too long for here comes the Great Chamberlain with more
blessing.”
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