I am in total agreement with Polonius on this point. That is all.
Author: erainbowd
That’s good.
I’ve been sitting here for 10 minutes trying to think of something that’s good. There are, of course, in the great stretches of the planet MANY things that are good but because I’m in a dark moment of my life, I’m finding it hard to think of one. Because, of course, this good thing must relate to me. It can’t just be an objectively good thing. It can’t be rainbows over waterfalls in Hawaii. It can’t be the Bolshoi Ballet or the Pyramids. It can’t be baby hedgehogs on the internet. That would be a brilliant exercise, though, listing all that is good in the world. In fact, I’m sure I’ve done that very thing MANY times before. Let’s check my journals from the last 20 years and see what we find.
HOWEVER. I finally came up with something that is good in my current life in this current moment and then I feel like an ass for not thinking of it right away, for not celebrating, for not floating around the city with joy. My student loans are about to be paid off. There is a check on its way to my loan company and when it arrives, I will no longer have student debt. It’s magic. One member of my family made a very generous move and magically, I am free. That’s good.
‘The mobled Queen’?
What is Hamlet’s objection to ‘The mobled Queen’?
Is it to the word ‘mobled’?
Is he questioning whether the mobled Queen is Hecuba? Or is he investigating his memory of the text?
He has asked the player to come to Hecuba but at no point in this speech is Hecuba actually named.
Is Hamlet, perhaps, not sure this is the part he wanted to hear?
‘But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled Queen –‘
After months and months of, first rehearsing, then performing, Hamlet – this was the line that sang to me. When it was all over, I would often get it stuck in my head, like a song, sang it like a song, I can still sing it like a song.
I came to think about Hecuba quite a bit because of this musical line. I developed an affinity for her, always as the mobled Queen, even when I couldn’t tell you what mobled meant. I couldn’t tell you why I love it anymore than I can tell you why I love the horns that kick in “Tightrope”, right after she says, “Now shut up.”
Unless, perhaps, it’s the same reason, a highly lyrical line right after an interruption that puts space around a complete change in direction. I could sing it all day.
Come to Hecuba.
Is Hecuba the next bit of this speech or is Hamlet having the First Player skip to her? There is a remarkable perspective shift from Pyrrhus to Hecuba – from one location to another. It’s an almost filmic transition. Which is why I wonder if there’s a cut in the middle.
Say on.
Used to be, I couldn’t really hear those compliments. Used to be, I’d brush them off like a fly on pie. I’d blush, I’d look down and wish fervently for the praising to stop.
Now, I eat them up like curly fries.
He’s for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps.
Is this true? If so, there’s a level of intimacy here in Hamlet’s knowledge of Polonius’ taste. It makes me wonder about all the years previous to the play. How many performances have Hamlet and Polonius watched together? All of them? Did Hamlet the pre-teen laugh at Polonius snoring through Andromache? Did Hamlet the student roll his eyes as Polonius guffawed at a dirty joke or a silly dance? It might be slightly embarrassing watching a bawdy story with your girlfriend’s dad.
Of course, I’m not convinced that this is true of Polonius. He seems quite enamored of his role as Julius Caesar and there’s a level of dignity that he has (or aspires to have, depending on the production) that doesn’t seem to square with jigs or tales of bawdry.
Prithee say on.
Some people will keep talking until compelled to stop. Others need encouragement to go on. I’m generally one of the latter. You will only catch me rambling in very welcome environments, otherwise, I will do my best to be terse, concise, brief. The friends that are the dearest are the one who encourage me to say more.
It shall to the barber’s, with your beard.
From henceforth, I will send things to the barber’s instead of saying they need editing. We still use the word “cutting” when talking about editing text in the theatre. Was there a time when cutting something from a play required scissors? It makes sense, if you’re carrying your paper role, to cut, literally cut, all unnecessary lines like the hairs on your head. Simply crossing them out really might not do. Next time I see a play that has been overwritten, which needs a serious trim, I may call out “To the barber’s with this!”
This is too long.
When I swore that oath to myself that I would be an artist and did not mind if I had to labor in obscurity for a while or live in poverty, I did not have a sense of time. When I was a teenager and making these choices, things that took a long time took months or a year. I figured that finding some success would be like those couple of years in which I was waiting for my driver’s license. It seemed long, sure and it took patience but there was an end point. I did finally turn 16 and even after I failed the test the first time, I did eventually get a license. Having to suffer for a while for my art seemed perfectly reasonable.
When a few years is the longest you’ve ever had to be patient, it is impossible to imagine the effect of 20.
The Hamlet Project 