You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Rosencrantz is the kind of friend I used to have – the kid who is constantly trying to manipulate people into telling him more than they want to. He’s like the friend who says, “If you were really my friend, you would. . .” and it’s either something he wants you to do or something he wants you to say and somehow you end up doing it or saying it. But then you feel bad – and you think, “Yeah, you know – maybe I’m actually NOT your friend, so no thanks. I won’t tell you that intimate secret, actually. No, no, you don’t get to hear about my innermost feelings.”
This is a particularly sneaky manipulation – the idea that by somehow NOT telling Rosencrantz he is preventing his own freedom, he own cure.
When, of course, there’s nothing wrong with Hamlet that a little revenge won’t cure.


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