Act Three
Act
Three Scene Two
Sub
Scene Six
The
curtain raises (1)
The
Main Player steps up to the stage, dressed in the flashy suit provided by
Hamlet. He then took the attention of the audience to the play.
“For
us and our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing
patiently.” The main player bowed to the audience and then a hush was among
them.
“Is
this a prologue or the posy of a ring?” Hamlet looked at Ophelia.
“Posy
of a ring? I have not any of yours.” Ophelia hammered Hamlet then. “A prologue
perhaps but a prologue of us is unneeded. As there was none on a ring, none it
will be the tree trunks.”
Writing
love commitments was a fave then the carving on the tree trunks.
“You
do read aplenty but shallow is your understanding.” Hamlet looked at Ophelia.
“The tree stands there longer than most lovers.”
“Understanding
you have been …. too brief, my lord. I can’t tell if you ever knew ….love..”
Ophelia replied if Hamlet was to talk of them. She understood him no more.
“As
the woman’s love?” Hamlet added.
“Or
the man who seems to move about with his love.” Ophelia retorted back. “Our
facet of love had changed with recent perspective.”
Hamlet
for once was unable to reply and then the play began.
The
two players took to the stage; one was the King and the other was the Queen.
“Full
thirty times hath Phoebus’ cart gone round. Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’
orbèd 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.” The
King spoke.
“You
mean he broke her with his hands?’ A servant was asking his friend.
“How
would I know? You were not any virgin when we did it.” Whispers of hush went
out around.
“Playing
to the non-learned was like to the inmates of the zoo,” Polonius muttered to
himself. “It’s also like un-regained grounds in a long drought.”
“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 your former
state, that I distrust you.” The Queen sighed. “Yet, though I distrust, be
it discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must for women fear too much, even as
they love, and women’s fear and love hold quantity, in neither aught nor
extremity.”
“Now
what my love is, proof hath made you know, and, as my love is sized, my fear is
so: Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fears grow
great, great love grows there.” The Queen looked to the King.
“Is
she in love or not?” The voice was stifled by the hush of the others.
“Faith,
I must leave thee, love, and shortly too. I feel death in my soul. My
operant powers their functions leave to do.” The King clutched his heart as if
in pain and his heart yearn for the Queen to live on well.
“And
thou shall live in this fair world behind, honored, beloved; and haply one as
kind for thy husband shalt thou—” The King looked to his Queen smiling. “Another
will find you soon.”
“O,
confound the rest! Such love must need be treason in my breast.” The Queen
called out. Her heart beats for him only.
“We
have taken the vow to be forever till death do us part.” The King smiled. “If
death comes, let us part as it should be.”
“Our
vows are ours to hold not in our physical life, but in our souls. If there be a
second let me be accurst but none shall be until I may have killed the first.”
The Queen protested that she will only remarry if only her first was murdered
by her.
“That’s
wormwood!” Hamlet called out. Wormwood was a known elixir then to purge the
digestive tract of worms. To the actors, it was meant to bring forth guilt; as
in the play, it was given to the patient in preparation poured into the ear.
Murder is most foul indeed.
“The
instances that second marriage move; Are base respects of thrift, but none
of love. A second time I kill my first when the second kisses me in bed.” The
Queen sat on the stage. “I have done badly not only on his death; I have also
taken another for the desire. He dies inside of me.”
“I
do believe you think what now you speak, but what we do determines oft we
break.” The King accepts the Queen of her words with her action. “Purpose is
but the slave to memory, of violent birth, but poor validity, which now, the
fruit unripe, sticks on the tree but fall unshaken when they mellow be.”
“Often
our intentions are strong at first, but as time goes on they weaken, just like
an apple sticks to the tree when it is unripe but falls to the ground once it
ripens. The promises we make to ourselves in emotional moments lose their power
once the emotion passes.” The King looks at the Queen for reality may differ
from mere words.
“Love
me yes, love me not.” Hamlet felt the need to add his words when he looked at
the one he once loved.
“He
is onto his madness once more.” Polonius rubbished the man of his love in his
words inside his thoughts. “He is more
of a rotten apple even on the tree then.”
“Most
necessary ’tis that we forget to pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.”
The King looked to the audience.
“Heed
those words. Pay up your debts now!” Sullivan the servant roared.
“Shut
him up before we indebt him to the dispensary for good.” Another servant
retorted. Sullivan was damned to the pits of silence from then.
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