And, as you said, and wisely was it said, ‘Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o’erhear The speech, of vantage.

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Polonius makes it so clear that this hiding behind the arras business (the one that gets him killed) was 100% not his idea. He flatters Claudius about it but there’s a quality of the Polonius Doth protest too much about it for me.

I’m curious, too, about why Shakespeare makes it so explicit that this is Claudius’ idea to eavesdrop on Gertrude and Hamlet. It feels like it serves to magnify his guilt, like it shifts the responsibility for Polonius’ death a TINY BIT off of Hamlet’s shoulders.

I suppose it also supports Hamlet’s idea that it would be Claudius behind the arras. This variety of spying being so clearly more Claudius’ style – given that he came up with it.

I’ll warrant she’ll tax him home.

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This is a funny assumption. Why does Polonius think this is their relationship? Does Gertrude USUALLY give her son the business? Is she GENERALLY a reprimanding sort?
If the actual closet scene is any indication, it would seem to be the reverse. Hamlet would appear to be a rather bossy insolent son who likes to tell his mother what to do. Gertrude will trot out an attempt at a scolding but it fails in several ways. 1) Hamlet takes no heed of it and 2) It gets Polonius killed.

This taxing Hamlet home business is perhaps not the job for his mother. Especially since he is an adult and a would be king. I’m guessing it used to be Hamlet Senior’s job, back when he used to walk the earth with blood in his veins and his armor on.

Behind the arras I’ll convey myself To hear the process.

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I’m actually not clear why Polonius and Claudius think this is a good idea. Is it a way to police Gertrude, perhaps – keep her out of Hamlet’s confidence? Or keep her from betraying herself to Hamlet?

It’s weird. I’m trying to imagine a circumstance in which hiding behind a curtain to listen to a mother with her son makes sense. If the son was a member of the mob and the mother was cooperating with the police?
That would make sense.
I guess this is a little bit like that from Claudius’ point of view.

My lord, he’s going to his mother’s closet.

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Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were sent before Polonius was sent to try and get Hamlet to go to his mother. They seem to have come straight from that (failed) errand to Claudius. There is no discussion about it that we see – but they must have previously reported their failure to insure Hamlet’s cooperation. Perhaps their enthusiasm for the errand to England comes from an attempt to make up for the previous failure. As in, no, we couldn’t bring him to his mother’s closet but we CAN bring him to England.

Polonius, though he got no more of a guarantee of Hamlet’s compliance than Rosencrantz and Guildenstern did, reports compliance and assurance. He has a politician’s skill in this.

We will haste us.

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Probably what they should have said FIRST. Probably didn’t need to speechify about a bunch of kingly things. Probably should have said, “Yes, sir. We’ll go to England as you asked. Thank you very much. We will haste us, goodbye.”
But. . .it takes all kinds. And it can take time for people to get a hint. Like, the people who just won’t hang up or who won’t leave or who won’t let you leave. Maybe Rosencrantz is one of THOSE.

For we will fetters put about this fear, Which now goes too free-footed.

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Damn that’s a lot of Fs!
Claudius isn’t usually so alliterative
and neither is Shakespeare.
Those Fs are doing something.
What is it?
I try it.
What happens when I pronounce F F F multiple times?
And it’s not a soothing sound,
It’s not a soothing feeling. It has a sputtering sense – a stop on something.

In the current climate, the repetition of F leads to feeling like I’m trying to avoid saying “fuck” or wanting to but somehow not being able to.

It has almost a SPITTING quality. Something that probably explain why “fuck” is such a satisfying word to swear with because it starts with that spitting sensation.

This scene could be super interesting for a Claudius to negotiate. . .to begin with outbursts to go toward this spitting Fs – and then finally get to the big confession.

Juicy.

Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage.

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Claudius listens to a whole lot of nonsense from these guys before he finally says this. Why does he not cut them off before now?
And when he DOES cut them off, why does he suggest that they arm themselves?
It feels like not QUITE a literal arming, that is, not arms, like weapons. . .just like preparations. But it also could be arms, like weapons.
In a way, I wonder if Claudius is blurting out things which he then softens to more sensible stuff. “Arm you” feels like it’s in the territory of “I like him not.” In other words, things that are much more succinct and blunt than Claudius usually is.
Also, “Arm you, I pray you,” is a somewhat clunky redundant expression. It feels to me like Claudius is in such a state, his speech is a little disrupted – and maybe he listens to Rosencrantz nattering on about deaths of kings and so on because he’s not really listening. He may be simply managing his stirred up emotions.
I mean, look, he’s just stormed out of a play asking for light and in a moment he’s going to fall to his knees from guilt. So there’s something going on from point A to point B – and I don’t think it’s handling the politics of his situation.
I think his mind must be in two places and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are just mosquito noise.
“Arm you,” for example, might be to himself before he realizes he’s still with them and he could switch gears, mid-sentence. I’d love to see this scene with an unraveling Claudius – where rather than sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern out in a business-like fashion, he spirals out while they talk.

Never alone did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

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This is why I’m glad to not be a king.
Being able to sigh on your own
just whenever you feel like it
without really bothering anyone;
Well this is not to be underestimated
I imagine that some might enjoy it – enjoy the constant attention and responsiveness of people around them. And generally, those are the kind of people who want to be king. Which makes me think about Utah Phillips and that little speech he gives about anyone who wants to be president being just the kind of president we don’t need.
He says something like the best presidents have been the Do Nothing Presidents.
Which is perhaps kind of a flaw in our democracy. Because giving rulership to a guy who wants it the most selects for a certain kind of leader. Just handing down leadership to anyone who happens to be next in line allows for some diversity in leadership styles. At least a little bit – because, of course, those that want to be king will find a way. That’s why we get such stories as are in Richard 3 or Henry the 4th or Richard the 2nd and so on.
And this oft quoted line serves them all.

Which when it falls, each small annexment, petty consequence, attends the boisterous ruin.

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Uh? Rosencrantz? I’m not sure you’re making this situation any better.
You’re going from the king’s very personal death, to mass destruction and ending with a boisterous ruin.
I mean. . .weren’t you guys just talking about sending Hamlet to England?
How in the world did you end up at boisterous ruin? Well, shortly – you end up at general groan. . .which is slightly less apocalyptic than the death and boisterous ruin.

This speech is often cut, for many many good reasons – chief among them the way it adds absolutely nothing to the plot of the scene. It does, however, add an odd little something about Rosencrantz’s character. Who is this guy, when talking about taking this guy’s stepson out of the way, goes on an epic dystopian riff about the death of the man he’s talking to?

The sidekick doth protest too much, methinks. Is he trying to convince himself that taking Hamlet to England, (and possibly he knows that England is code for taking him to his death) is the right thing to do? The worse the circumstances are the more justified he is in doing it. It’s got to be apocalyptic, I guess.

Or ‘tis a massy wheel Fixed on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoined;

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There’s the wheel. This one’s massy. Or mossy? It’s massy.
It is not a weal. It is a wheel.
Surely that will be heard and clear! (Surely not.)
This is a bizarre metaphor.
A giant wheel? At the top of a mountain?
That’s got a whole bunch of little things attached to it? Huh?
It’s not like – say, a cart?
Or – some actual wheeled thing?
No – I picture something like a bicycle wheel with lots of stuff stuck in between the spokes, playing cards, trinkets, tassels and decorative plastic flowers – and this weird wheel is hanging out at the top of a mountain –
Maybe little strings hang down from it and stuff moves when the wheel turns, like puppets attached to their controls.
What the hell is Rosencrantz going on about?