~ Hamlet ~
Too many thoughts are in my head now,
and no thoughts.
That most foolish of counselors
is now stowed away;
he will keep silent now, and always.
My mother, my uncle,
I cannot think of what they will do now.
I must confess my act
to the one it will hurt most;
oh God Ophelia, where are you now?
Do you sleep, not knowing
what evils fill the night around you?
I should go to her, comfort her,
but how, with such bloody hands?
And what is this now?
My name is called, Hamlet, Lord Hamlet!
What noise? Who calls on Hamlet?
Oh, here they come.
My schoolfellows, of course.
Carrion crows, they have come to circle already.
“What have you done, my lord,”
asks Rosencrantz, as he comes upon me,
“with the dead body?”
“Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.”
“Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
and bear it to the chapel.”
“Do not believe it.”
“That I can keep your counsel and not my own.
Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! What
replication should be made by the son of a king?”
“Take you me for a sponge, my lord?”
“Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance,
His rewards, his authorities.
But such officers do the king best service in the end:
he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw;
first mouthed, to be last swallowed:
when he needs what you have gleaned,
it is but squeezing you, and, sponge,
you shall be dry again.”
“I understand you not, my lord.”
“I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.”
“My lord, you must tell us where the body is,
and go with us to the king.
“The body is with the king,
but the king is not with the body.
The king is a thing…”
“A thing, my lord!”
“Of nothing: bring me to him.
Hide fox, and all after.”