The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom’d.

Before this scene, “treacherous” only appears once in the play (as one of Hamlet’s descriptors of Claudius in the rogue and peasant slave speech). But in this scene, treachery is introduced and then repeated several times. Laertes introduces it in acknowledging his ill deeds, Hamlet picks it up regarding Gertrude’s poisoning, and Laertes returns to it here with the sword. While all three instances refer to the same moments really – each treacherous mention refers to a different thing or person. Laertes relates to the treachery as his, Hamlet responds to a general treachery and now Laertes places the treachery on the sword.

In thee there is not half an hour of life.

Why does Hamlet last so much longer than Laertes?

(I mean, aside from dramatic necessity, of course.)

They wound each other at approximately the same time – though, Hamlet is, in fact, wounded first – and one assumes that Laertes’ cut of Hamlet is deeper than the one Hamlet gave Laertes, if only because Laertes intends to kill Hamlet.

I feel like I’ve seen productions wherein they answer this question by making Hamlet wound Laertes more intensely than he was wounded but I don’t love that as a solution.

I mean…it feels to me more that Hamlet has more reason to continue to live. He has a lot to do before he shuffles off his mortal coil. He’s got to find out what happened to his mom and take care of the treachery and that’s before he knows for sure how guilty his uncle is. I think Hamlet’s adrenaline is pumping.

Laertes knows he’s dead as soon as he gets hit and he has nothing to do but confess and die.

No medicine in the world can do thee good.

I’m a recent convert to medicine. After a lifetime of relative health, I had this idea that most medicines were just a corporate conspiracy. The whole idea of taking drugs to feel better seemed naïve. I’d take an Advil if I had to but I definitely tried to avoid it. I think I thought of taking medication as a kind of weakness.

But then I ran into a chronic migraine condition and after months and months of no improvement – suddenly with new medications, the environment improved by 80% and the magic powder could sometimes just make the migraine vanish. The magic powder worked better the sooner I took it – and it soon became clear that I could either take the medicine or look down the barrel of a day or two or three of abject misery. I came to understand that there was no benefit in resisting medication. Suffering through intense pain offers no rewards.

It would not make me stronger.

And so I became a believer. And I now understand how ableist and ridiculous I had been before. Medicine can be a miracle, it can be a literal lifesaver and it can also radicaly improve a quality of life. It can make the difference between rocking back and forth in the dark and going out into the world and participating in life.

I’m such a convert that now I think about Laertes’ declaration that no medicine in the world will do Hamlet good and I think – Really?

Not in the whole world? How much of the world have you seen, young man?

I’m certain this unction was sold to him as deadly – with no antidote – but I now have so much faith in medicine, I think “There must be SOME medicine that could forestall these young mens’ deaths.” But even if there was – they would not get their hands on it in enough time to save them.

Hamlet, thou art slain.

I’m reading the new translation of The Odyssey (which is great, by the way) and it has reminded me of something I must have known before but somehow forgot: that Laertes is the name of Odysseus’ father. This is something that Shakespeare was surely aware of – given his education. It is also likely the reason he had the name Laertes at hand to give to Laertes.

It does make me wonder why Shakespeare gave an old man’s name to a young man. Laertes, in the Odyssey, meets his son in the underworld. He is the father of a hero. But not an uncomplicated one. Wilson has translated the first line of The Odyssey as “Tell me about a complicated man.”

What is Odysseus’ father’s story?

What might Shakespeare trying to evoke by naming Laertes thus?

Is it this sort of moment? This direct telling of difficult truths?

Laertes – our Laertes of Elsinore – has to tell it like it is. He has to say it this directly, because he’s already told Hamlet once and he clearly did not get it. Hamlet is running around  searching for treachery and such. Laertes has to directly lay it out – all the treachery – not just Gertrude’s murder.

It is here, Hamlet.

No need for a treachery detector if one of the perpetrators has a conscience.

Laertes has just enough conscience to own up to his misdeeds but not enough to not do them.

There he stood – the murder “almost” against his conscience – but he went ahead and committed it. He has the kind of conscience that leads to regrets but not to prevention.

Treachery!

It’s pretty great that treachery is connected to trickery. Apparently, treachery comes from the French word related to deceit and trickery.

Its contemporary usage suggests something much more extreme than trickery. Roads that are treacherous are dangerous – they are deceptive, perhaps but also potentially deadly. I suppose death is the ultimate trick.

And I think Hamlet uses it here because poison is a more deceitful murder weapon than a sword, for example – or a dagger.

It’s not just murder that’s happened – it’s deceitful murder.

We know who did it. And Hamlet probably does, too. But the facts are still obscured, veiled in treachery.

Ho!

In contemporary productions, I’ve seen people swallow their hos. Because of the contemporary meaning of ho, actors will get afraid to put the ho to its proper use.

The Hamlet I saw last night, just for example, sort of added it as a syllable to O Villainy. So it sounded like O Villainy

And the ho is not there just to be an added syllable. It is a call. In this case – it’s a call to get some authorities to step in or come in.

O Villainy O doesn’t make any sense.

O villainy!

He doesn’t take a moment to grieve his mother.

He doesn’t stop to say “Goodnight sweet mother” or any of it. He just goes right to villainy. With good reason, of course. There has, in fact, been some villainy afoot. Hamlet responds to the poisoning of his mother not her death.

Which is probably good. He can do more about the villainy than he can do about her death and he has not yet even taken in his own poisoning. It would be nice if there were a sort of St. Peter’s Gate because given how quickly these deaths follow on one another, mother and son would likely show up there at the same time. Also Laertes. And Claudius. It’d be a very crowded intake.