The man beside him is of no real consequence. Polonius barely listens to him burp and laugh his way through the meal. He’s caught some inappropriate remarks about the Queen and several of the ladies of the court. He’s had his eyes on the king; he’s waiting to be summoned, if only with an unconscious expectancy – a single raised eyebrow will be enough to push aside this greasy carcass of a bird and leap to his side.
Meanwhile, the man beside him has moved on to court matters. Polonius nods occasionally so as to not have to pay attention. He has just about decided to get up anyway and simply ask the king if he’d summoned him, when the man next to him thumps him on the back and says something about Ophelia. Polonius turns around and asks the man, wrist deep in his capon now, what he’s just said. The man laughs again and bits of poultry fly out of his mouth.
“I said, how’s about your daughter with that Prince? There’s been all kinds of ducking behind doors, I hear. You don’t watch out, old man, and you’ll end up grandfather to a Prince, if only a bastard one!”
Polonius grits his teeth and snaps the capon’s breastbone in front of him. His dining companion slaps him on the back again and says, “Hey – I’m just joshin’ ya!”
Polonius smiles weakly.
“But I’ll get my wife to knit you some booties just in case.”
Polonius excuses himself, pushes his chair back from the banquet table and with a look to the King (still boisterously drinking and telling stories), he slides out of the room backwards.
The Hamlet Project 