I loved Ophelia.

Did you, Hamlet? This is the first moment in the play wherein it feels as though you did. Pretty much the rest of it you’ve been a complete and total cock.
And actually now, too, to Laertes and everyone else here who came to mourn her. Leaping into her grave? Fighting with her beloved brother? There are men who love like this, I suppose. The woman herself is inconsequential – it’s the men around her he must prove himself to.

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