Is there a Shakespeare lexicon App yet?
Probably there’s a limited market. Probably there aren’t legions of people clamoring for something that would be a quick reference for words like truepenny. I’d like to know all the possible associations with True Pennies – but instead, I’ll make up my own. There must have been a run on counterfeit coins so that one had to determine what pennies were true and which were false. A true penny inspired confidence and relief and came to be associated with affection and loyalty. You called someone a Truepenny in the same moment you might affectionately tousle his hair. Your school chum, your son, your familiar servant, your lover, or sure, why not, the ghost of your father.

Boy? We’re getting a bit familiar with this ghost now, aren’t we?
He’s a king, for one thing and your father and you’re calling him “boy?”
I have a pretty familiar relationship with my dad in the much more casual 21st century, and still I cannot imagine calling him “boy.”
Is it possible this is a close approximation to a “whoo boy!” exclamation?
As in “whoo boy it’s hot outside” or “Whoo boy I’m tired.”
“Whoo boy there’s a ghost’s voice rising up through the floor!”

If there’s an argument for Hamlet actually being a bit mad, I might support it here. There’s something slightly manic about the repetition of “indeed” and the insistence of multiple swearings. This scene is one of the only ones that feel like madness or, at least, mania. All the other madnesses seem to fit right into a feigned madness. He never gets out of control. He has said, “I will pretend to be crazy.” He confesses to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as much as “I’m on to you. I’m not as crazy as I let on.” He really does know a hawk from a handsaw. But in this moment. I think if a hawk flew by, he’d barely notice it – even if it were riding a handsaw.

Faith is not enough for Hamlet. They have sworn already in faith. But Hamlet must have something he can touch and wield. It does not hurt that this thing can also hurt, that they will swear by something he can swing into them should they swerve from faith.

I don’t do much swearing of this sort. But I do enjoy swear words, as do most people I know. There’s scientific evidence that swearing helps diminish pain. They did a study with ice and the group that swore could withstand the freezing pain significantly longer. I wonder if our cultural turning to swearing belies a pain that we’re attempting to diminish. If we can shout “FUCK!” loud enough, perhaps our angst will fade and disappear.

It was one of the darkest nights I have ever spent.
Perhaps I should have never made it known but I had to write that poem.
The lucky thing about poetry, though, is that no one ever reads it.
So, even though I wrote it down (carefully, again and again,
re-crafting, re-editing, chiseling at it like marble
unlike these words here.)
Only a couple of people saw it.
I wrote it down (because I had to) but I guess never really made it known.

Horatio is the scholar;
Marcellus, the soldier.
Hamlet has called them both friends.
We never see Marcellus again after this scene;
Horatio hangs around.
Two more friends turn up in a scene or two. It strikes me that this is one of the few plays that features multiple friendships. Women tend to have a single friend. Rosalind has Celia; Helena has Hermia. And men tend to be rivals or colleagues. Lysander and Demetrius, the Mechanicals. Oh, wait, what about Hal and Falstaff – and all the guys at East Cheap. There we have a group of friends and also a Prince. The connections between Hal and Hamlet are several. For one thing, we see the friendships fall away as the Princes head to their inevitable end, one to kinghood, the other to tragedy.

Chemistry class had nothing to do with science. We filled out exercise sheets as we recounted all that had happened between one or the other of us and a man or boy. Each detail, each word, each exchange was absolutely essential to share. I needed to know what he said to her. She needed to know what he said to me. If, by some chance, we actually had to do some chemistry work in chemistry, like take a test or actually listen to instruction from the teacher, we felt cheated and the desire to know might burst forth into notes or cartoons or on the rare occasion postponed til after school.
The rest of the students in the class were a blur. The teacher, a blur. We were in a bubble of exchange. And no one was getting in there.

Ghosts tend to tell the truth – as if in life
the truth was shackled inside the body
covered with a thin veneer of lies
and as soon as the life has been released,
the truth flies free like a bird from a jasmine bush.
One of the few advantages of death would seem to be
the removal of social constraints and niceties. Maybe it’s like being very drunk, there’s no restraint on the tongue, no further will to lie
or position one’s self in the game.
I wonder though, if some ghosts, constrained by truth throughout their lives, might find death gives them great opportunity and freedom to lie.
“Mark, me, Traveler. I was the King of Schneckendorf when I lived.
Quake in your boots, bow to me – for yea, even in death I have magical powers.
I was very definitely not a blacksmith in life. No, no.
I’m here to tell you where my kingly treasure lies buried.
Tremble and note – lo, for it shall come to you if you pay close attention.
And I am definitely not yanking your chain on this. I very definitely did not
Make chains when I lived. Treasure. King of Schneckendorf Right Here.”

Okay, scholars, bring out the goods.
Is there another mention of Saint Patrick in the canon?
Why, particularly, is Hamlet swearing by Saint Patrick?
Is this the same Patrick with the snakes in Ireland?
I’m told that the snakes were a metaphor for pagans, that Saint Patrick drove a bunch of non-believers away. I need some saintly scholarship here.
Let’s just go with snakes for the purposes of the mythological reference.
Is Hamlet swearing by our expeller of snakes because he’d like to do some driving out of a snake, himself? Patrick (whether it be snakes or heretics) was seen as a cleanser of his nation and much honored for it. Hamlet may be seeking a Patrick to clean out his native land.

Wanted: Danish St Patrick, able to drive out all incestuous, murderous and damnéd Danes. No experience required. All expenses paid.