He's coming now. Listen here—tell him directly that his behavior has gone too far to overlook, and that your gracious mercy has stood between him and the King's anger. I'll wait right here. Please be direct and firm with him.

He'll be right here. Look, you need to be straight with him—tell him his behavior is out of control and that you've been protecting him from the King getting really angry. I'll stay hidden. Be firm.

hes coming be direct w him tell him hes gone too far

Mother! Mother! Mother!

Mom! Mom! Mom!

mom where r u

I promise you, don't worry. Move aside—I can hear him coming.

Don't worry, I got this. Get out of sight—he's on his way.

im ready he's coming get out of the way

Now, mother, what's the problem?

So, mother, what's going on?

what's the matter mom

Hamlet, you have deeply offended your father.

Hamlet, you've really hurt your father.

hamlet you've offended him your father gravely

Mother, you have offended my father greatly.

Mother, you've really upset my father.

you upset dad a lot

Come on, you're answering with a careless tongue.

Stop it, you're just throwing out empty words.

stop talking empty

Go, go, you speak with a wicked tongue. You question my behavior, but you're the one who should be questioned.

Stop. You're using a poisoned tongue. You dare question me when you're the guilty one?

your tongue is wicked you're the guilty one not me

Well, what now, Hamlet?

What's wrong with you, Hamlet?

what's wrong

What's the problem now?

What's your problem exactly?

what's going on

Have you forgotten who I am?

You're acting like you don't even know me.

do u forget who i am

No, I swear not. You are the Queen, married to your first husband's brother—and I wish it were different. You are my mother.

No way. You're the Queen, married to your dead husband's brother. And I hate it. You're still my mother, though.

no. youre the queen married to ur dead husbands brother thats wrong

Well then, I'll bring people in here who can speak more sense than you.

Fine, then I'll get someone else in here to talk to you.

ill get someone else

Come here and sit down, you won't leave. You won't go until I hold up a mirror for you where you can see the deepest parts of yourself.

Come sit down here. You're not leaving until I show you a mirror where you can see your true self.

sit down can't leave until you see yourself

What will you do? You won't murder me, will you?

What are you doing? You're not going to hurt me?

what are you doing will you hurt me why

What? Help! Help! Help!

Help! Help! Somebody help!

help help help!!

What now? A rat? [Draws.] Dead for a coin, dead!

What? A rat? [Draws.] I'll kill it for pocket change!

a rat kill it

Oh, I've been killed!

Oh! He's killed me!

oh no im dead

Oh me, what have you done?

What did you do?

what did u do

I don't know. Is it the King?

I didn't know—is that the King?

didnt know is that the king

What a hasty and violent act this is!

This is a terrible, violent thing to do.

that was awful and violent

A bloody deed. Nearly as evil, dear mother, as killing a king and then marrying his brother.

Bloody, sure. But it's almost as bad, Mother, as murdering a king and then marrying his brother.

bloody? sure but not as bad as killing a king and marrying his brother, mom

As in killing a king?

Kill a king?

u mean my husband? killed a king?!

Yes, lady, that was my accusation.

Yes, that's what I'm saying.

yes that's what i mean killing a king

You wretched, rash, meddling fool, goodbye! I thought you were someone better. There's your reward for being too nosy—it's dangerous. Stop wringing your hands. Quiet, sit down. Let me wring your heart, and I will, if it's made of something soft. If long habit hasn't made you so hard that nothing can touch you.

You pathetic, impulsive meddler, you're done. I thought you were someone important. This is what you get for sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. Stop that panicking. Shut up and sit down. I'm going to crush your heart—really crush it—if you've still got one. If you haven't become so numb from doing wrong all your life that nothing can reach you anymore.

u reckless interfering jerk goodbye. shut up and sit. ima break ur heart if its even still real

What have I done that gives you the right to speak to me so accusingly?

What have I done that justifies you speaking to me like this?

what did i do to deserve this why are you accusing me

Such an act that destroys modesty and virtue, makes goodness seem false, takes away the rose from the innocent face of true love, and leaves a scar there. Makes marriage promises as false as a cheater's vows. Such a deed as tears out the very soul from the body of the marriage contract, and turns sweet religion into meaningless words. Heaven itself glows with anger, yes, this solid earth, with sad face, as if facing judgment day, feels sick at heart at this deed.

An act like that destroys all decency and purity, makes virtue look fake, strips away the beauty of true love and scars it permanently. It makes marriage vows just as meaningless as a liar's promises. It rips the soul right out of the marriage itself and turns religion into just random words. Heaven glows with anger at this, the whole earth looks sad like it's facing judgment day, and everything feels sick because of what you did.

destroys decency makes virtue fake scars true love makes marriage false heaven is angry

What act, my son? What are you talking about?

What act? Tell me.

what act what do you mean what have i done

Look at this picture here, and then this one, Two brothers shown side by side. See what beauty sat on this face, with hair like Apollo's, a forehead like Zeus himself, an eye like Mars, commanding and threatening, a bearing like the messenger Mercury just landed on a mountain that touches heaven. A face so perfect in every way, that every god seemed to put his seal on it, to prove to the world that this was truly a man. This was your husband. Now look at what comes next. Here is your husband, like a diseased ear of corn infecting his healthy brother. Do you have eyes? Could you leave this beautiful mountain to feed and instead eat from this swamp? Have you eyes? You cannot call it love. For at your age, passion is tame and modest, and it waits for judgment. So what judgment would make you step from this to this? You must have sense, or you couldn't move at all. But that sense must be paralyzed. For madness doesn't make such mistakes, and pleasure was never so enslaved to sense without keeping some ability to choose to understand such a difference. What devil was it that fooled you so completely? Blind man's bluff? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, ears without hands or eyes, smelling nothing, or just a sick piece of one true sense couldn't be so confused. Oh shame! Where is your blush? Rebellious hell, if you can rebel in an old woman's body, then to passionate youth let virtue be like wax, and melt in its own fire. Don't be ashamed when the compulsive burning takes command, since frost itself burns just as hot, and reason becomes a servant to desire.

Look at these two pictures of my father and uncle side by side. See how beautiful my father was? He had Apollo's curls, Zeus's forehead, the eyes of Mars—powerful and commanding. He had the bearing of Mercury, the messenger of the gods. Every god seemed to have put their seal on his face to show the world he was a perfect man. That was your husband. Now look at this one, your current husband—he's like a diseased ear of corn next to a healthy one. Do you have eyes? Could you leave this gorgeous mountain to eat in a swamp instead? Do you actually have eyes? And don't call it love. At your age, passion is supposed to be calm and controlled, letting judgment guide it. So what judgment would make you go from one to the other? You must have some sense, or you couldn't even move. But that sense has to be paralyzed somehow. Madness doesn't usually make these kinds of mistakes, and pleasure was never so enslaved to the senses that someone couldn't keep some ability to tell the difference. What devil tricked you so completely? Were you playing blind man's bluff? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, ears without hands or eyes, smell without anything—or even just a sick piece of one sense couldn't be this confused. Oh, the shame! Where's your blush? If hell itself can rebel in an old woman's body, then virtue to young, passionate people is like wax that melts in its own heat. Don't be ashamed when desire takes over, since even ice burns as hot as fire, and reason just serves desire.

see my father's beauty and his perfection now look at your new husband like a diseased ear how could you leave that for this where's your shame your judgment is paralyzed

Oh Hamlet, stop talking. You're turning my eyes inward to my soul, and there I see such dark and ingrained stains as will never wash away.

Hamlet, please stop. You're making me look inside my own soul, and I can see such dark, permanent stains there that I can't get rid of them.

stop i see dark stains on my soul they won't go away

No, but to live in the filthy moisture of a stained bed, festering in corruption, making love over a pigpen.

No—but living in that disgusting, filthy bed, surrounded by rot and decay, making love on top of a pigsty.

living in a filthy bed making love in filth fucking disgusting

Oh, speak to me no more. You're breaking my heart.

Please stop. You're killing me.

stop i can't listen i'm breaking

A murderer and a villain, a slave that is not even one-twentieth of your first husband. A court fool in the shape of a king, a pickpocket of empire and power, who stole the precious crown from its place and put it in his pocket!

A murderer and a criminal, a slave who isn't even one-twentieth as good as your first husband. A jester disguised as a king, a thief who steals the empire's power, who literally stole the crown off the shelf and shoved it in his pocket!

murderer vile criminal stole the crown put it in his pocket

No more.

Stop.

no stop please

A king made of scraps and patches!

A king stitched together from rags and patches!

a king made of rags and patches

Save me and protect me with your wings, You heavenly guards! What do you want from me?

Help me and cover me with your wings, You heavenly spirits! What do you want?

help me angels whats happening

Alas, he's mad.

He's gone mad.

he's insane madness

Have you not come to scold your slow son, who in time and emotion has let slip the important carrying out of your dreadful command? Speak!

Aren't you here to scold your sluggish son, who in his confusion has failed to carry out your terrible order? Tell me!

you came to scold your slow son for letting go your command?

Do not forget. This appearance is only to sharpen your almost worn-down resolve. But look, astonishment has taken hold of your mother. Oh, step between her and her troubled soul. Imagination works strongest in the weakest bodies. Speak to her, Hamlet.

Don't forget your purpose. This visit is to sharpen your almost fading determination. But your mother is struck with shock and confusion. You must comfort her and help her troubled spirit. The imagination works most powerfully in weak bodies. Speak to her, Hamlet.

don't forget this sharpens your resolve your mother's in shock comfort her soul speak to her

How are you, lady?

How are you?

are you okay how do you feel

Oh, how are you doing, when you stare at nothing, and talk with the invisible air? Your spirits peek wildly from your eyes, and like soldiers woken by alarm, your hair, like something alive, stands straight up. Oh dear son, spread cool patience on the heat and flames of your illness. What are you looking at?

Honey, how are you doing? You're staring at empty space and talking to thin air. Your soul is showing wildly in your eyes, and your hair is standing straight up like you've been shocked. My dear son, you need to calm yourself and cool down this burning illness. What are you looking at?

you're staring at nothing talking to air your hair is standing up what are you looking at

At him, at him! Look how pale he glares, his form and his message joined together, would convince even stones to understand. Don't look at me, or your pity will weaken my stern purpose. Then what I have to do will lose its force; I'll weep instead of kill.

At him! Look how pale and horrible he looks, and what he's saying combined with how he looks would convince even rocks. Don't look at me, because if you feel sorry for me, it will weaken what I have to do. Then I'll end up crying instead of doing what needs to be done.

look at him he's pale and horrible don't look at me or i'll lose my nerve

Who are you speaking with?

Who are you addressing right now?

whos that

Can't you see anything there?

Don't you see him?

u dont see him

Nothing at all. Yet everything I see, I see as it truly is.

I see nothing. Just what's here.

nothing no ghost just us

Did you hear nothing at all?

You didn't hear anything?

nothing no sound no voice

Nothing at all except our conversation.

Just us talking.

just us just our voices

Look there! See how it steals away? The Ghost is leaving!

There it goes! See it leaving?

look it's going the ghost fading away

This is pure imagination from your mind. Ecstasy is very skilled at creating these imaginary beings.

That's all in your head. It's just your imagination getting out of control.

its in ur head just imagination

Madness? No! My heartbeat keeps steady time just like yours, and my pulse plays just as healthy music. This isn't madness—what I've said makes sense. Test me on it, and I can restate everything. Real madness would run away from such a test. Mother, for God's sake, don't soothe your soul with the false comfort that my madness, not your actions, is speaking. That kind of thinking just covers the wound without healing it—like a bandage on an infected sore—while the corruption festers underneath, spreading poison that can't be seen. Confess yourself to heaven. Repent what you've already done. Stop committing new sins. Don't throw manure on the weeds to make them grow even thicker. Forgive me this lecture. In these soft, corrupt times, virtue itself has to beg for permission to do good, as if virtue were the criminal and vice the victim.

Madness? No! My heart beats just fine, regular as yours. My pulse is steady. This isn't madness—everything I said is true. I can prove it if you need me to. A truly mad person would avoid this test. Look, I know I'm being harsh, but I'm not crazy. Don't lie to yourself that my madness is doing the talking instead of your own guilt. That's like putting a bandage on a wound that's infected underneath—the rot keeps spreading in secret. You need to admit what you've done, actually feel sorry for it, and stop doing it again. Stop making things worse. I'm sorry for being so brutal, but in these corrupt times, even being decent and honest is treated like a crime.

im not mad im telling truth test me u need to confess what u did stop repeating the sin

Oh Hamlet, you've split my heart in two.

Oh Hamlet, you've torn my heart apart.

my heart broken split in half

Oh, throw away the worse part of it, and live the purer with the other half. Good night. But don't go to your uncle's bed. Pretend to have virtue, even if you don't. That terrible habit, which destroys all feeling toward evil, is a good angel in this way: it gives a kind of clothing and uniform for good and fair actions that fits perfectly. Refrain tonight, and that will make it easier to do it again tomorrow. The next time easier still. Because habit can almost change our very nature, and either control the devil or throw him out with amazing power. Once more, good night, and when you want to be blessed, I'll ask for your blessing. For this same man,

Get rid of the bad part of yourself and live with the good half. Good night. But don't go to your uncle's bed. Act like you have virtue even if you don't. Here's the thing about habit—it destroys all feeling for evil, but it's actually good in this way: it gives you clothing and appearance for good and fair actions. So don't sleep with him tonight, and tomorrow it'll be easier. The next time easier still. Habit can basically change your entire nature, controlling the devil or throwing him out with incredible power. Good night. When you want to be blessed, I'll ask for your blessing. About your uncle,

throw away the bad part live with the good don't go to his bed pretend to have virtue habit changes nature it will get easier

I do repent it, but heaven has chosen to punish me through this death, and to punish you through me. I must handle his body and answer for the death I caused. So again, good night. I must be cruel only to be kind. Here is where bad things begin, and worse things follow after. One more word, good lady.

I'm sorry about it, but heaven has decided to punish me by making me do this, and to punish you by what I've done to you. I'll take care of the body and take responsibility for the death. So again, good night. Sometimes you have to be harsh to do what's right. This is the beginning of bad things, and worse will follow. One more thing, lady.

i regret it but heaven made this happen ill deal w the body im sorry i had to be harsh to do right worst is still coming

What course of action should I take?

What am I supposed to do now?

what do i do

Don't do this, not by any means: let the swollen King tempt you into bed again, paw your cheek playfully, call you his mouse, and let him, for a couple of nasty kisses, or touching your neck with his cursed fingers, make you tell all about this matter, that I'm not mad at all, but mad by calculation. It would be good for you to let him know, for who, just a queen, fair, sober, and wise, would hide such important secrets from a frog, a bat, a tomcat? Who would do so? No, ignoring sense and secrecy, let the birds out of the basket on top of the house, let them fly, and like the famous ape, trying experiments, creep into the basket and break your own neck climbing down.

Whatever you do, don't let the fat King seduce you into bed again, don't let him paw at your cheek and call you his mouse, and don't let him use a couple of sloppy kisses or his disgusting fingers on your neck to trick you into telling him that I'm not actually insane but pretending. You should tell him I am crazy so he doesn't find out. Who, just because she's a queen and fair and sober and wise, would hide such important things from a frog, a bat, a tomcat? Nobody, right? But you should. Don't spill the basket on top of the house and let all the birds fly out just to try some experiment, and definitely don't be like that ape that crawled into an empty basket to see what would happen and broke its own neck.

don't let him seduce you don't tell him i'm faking keep the secret or you'll destroy everything

I swear it — if words are made of breath and breath has any power, I will not go to him.

I promise. My words mean something. I won't go to him.

i swear my words mean something i won't go

I must go to England, as you know.

I have to go to England.

i'm leaving going to england

Oh, I had forgotten. That's been decided.

Oh, I forgot. Yes, that's all been arranged.

oh right i forgot

There are sealed letters. My two school friends, whom I'll trust as little as venomous snakes, carry the orders. They must clear my path and lead me to treachery. Let it work. Because it's fun when the engineer gets blown up by his own bomb, and it will go hard if I won't dig one yard below their mines and blow them up at the moon. Oh, it's so sweet when two plots directly meet in one line. This man will cause me to be sent away. I'll drag his guts into the next room. Mother, good night. This counselor who is now very still, very secret, and very dignified, was in life a foolish, chattering fool. Come, sir, to wind things up with you. Good night, mother.

There are sealed letters. My two old school friends, who I trust about as much as I trust snakes with fangs, are carrying orders. They're supposed to clear my way and guide me to my death. Let them try. It's actually fun when the person setting the trap gets caught in it instead, and I promise I'll dig deeper than their mines and blow them to the moon. It's beautiful when two plots crash into each other like this. This dead guy is going to be responsible for me leaving. I'll carry his body to the next room. Mother, good night. This advisor—now he's very quiet, very secret, and very serious—was just a stupid, loud-mouthed jerk when he was alive. Alright, let's wrap this up with you. Good night, mother.

sealed letters school friends going to betray me i'll turn their trap around blow them up this counselor is finally quiet good night mom