My lord, you once did love me.

A little presumptuous, isn’t this?
How can he be so sure?
This is a declarative sentence. It almost sounds like an accusation, which is a little bit disingenuous from a guy who’s been brought in to spy on his friend and fails to come clean about it.
It strikes me now because I’m struggling with my relationship – feeling like perhaps the love is gone – that my love no longer loves me. . . but I realized, in thinking about this line, that I would NEVER say this to him, even though I think it to be true. I think he did once love me and probably still does to some degree but I would never presume, not even about the past. I would ask. I wouldn’t declare.

That Rosencrantz declares
And at the moment when he’s affectively being dismissed, well, doesn’t say a lot for Rosencrantz’s delicacy.
Truth is, in addition to being a lousy friend, he’s also a lousy a spy. He lacks cunning, charm, savvy and acting skills.

When England gets that notice about beheading this traitor, they must look at him and go, “Really? This guy? I have trouble believing he’s a spy.”


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