Yesty is interesting. It would seem to be connected to Yeasty – which I suppose calls to mind a self-expanding substance that pushes itself into any empty space. But Yesty has a big YES in it as in a Yes Man saying yes no matter what is presented to him, which also rather neatly represents Osric. He is both Yeasty and Yesty. Yessy?

I wasn’t clear what the bubbles were doing in this line at first – but then I thought some more about yeast and realized that when yeast is at work, it does create bubbles. Rising dough is full of bubbles. That’s why you knead dough, to bring it all back down to earth by bursting the bubbles.

I mean. Would this be so bad? Can you imagine a baby so considerate that he considered the feelings of his mother’s nipple? I mean – this feels like a whole different issue than his behavior with Hamlet.

Like, baby Osric checking in with his mom, like, “Dear Mother, would you mind very much if I fed from your breast now?”

Whereas Osric’s real issue is that he embroiders the facts and is socially awkward in building up the wrong people in status sensitive situations.
I can’t help feeling that this line rather reverberates with misogyny. I mean, the mother’s nipple is entirely disembodied and belongs to her son.

It would be a little bit sad if there were not one single person to speak well of him. There are many truly terrible people in the world and they usually have someone to commend them.

I would have thought no one in the world could commend Trump – but, in fact, there are thousands, maybe millions who do. I mean – to me, he seems one of the most odious human beings I have ever seen. I heard his voice this morning while brushing my teeth and I almost threw up, my gag response was so strong.

But there are many to praise him.

Likewise, Osric may be a suck-up or a lapwing or waterfly – but I would be surprised if he didn’t have a whole crew of people to commend him. There’s always someone, I think.

Repetition can sound like a dismissal or a hurrying along. Just a simple repetition like this has a quality of “alright, get on with it.”
I wonder why that is.

Flourish?! Me, sir? What could you possibly mean? Me, with a flourish? My nature demands a flourish? Why, the seraphim would take offense in their gilded heavens to hear my humble spirit described this way. My nature, good sir, demands no flourish, no embellishment, no gilding, no ornamentation. I am as simple as the precious the earth.

I have a weapons question, Internet!
Now, to me, a foil is a very particular kind of sword used in fencing. It’s a thin bendy thing with a handle. Like a little poking device.
Is a foil the SAME as a rapier? Rapier comes from the French for two edges sword – whereas a foil is more round. But then “foil” comes from “thin piece of metal” – so it well may be the same.
I’ve seen this fight scene with fencing foils. I’ve seen it with broadswords. I’ve seen it with daggers. I’ve seen it with daggers and swords.
In terms of contemporary staging, the sky’s the limit. But I’m curious about any shifts in the language around the swords here. Is Hamlet calling the swords “foils “ a small dis on Laertes’ famous French swords? Or is “foils” just a generic word for light swords?

I love that Hamlet has a regular exercise time. He’s got his schedule all organized – some breathing time (wherein he exercises) some reading time (words, words, words) some walking in the hall time (he walks four hours together here in the lobby) so predictably they can loose Ophelia on him at the right time. He really is the modern man.
I feel like I’d rather have a breathing time than an exercise time. Maybe if I named some time of day the breathing time, I’d get more exercise in it.

I hear this as a sort of “I’m not going anywhere. If the fight comes to me, fine. I won’t fight the fight. I’m just hanging here and if a duel just happened to run into me, I won’t resist but I’m not walking toward it, no sir. You wanna see me sword fight? You gotta bring the stuff to me.”