Claudius

Now, you must accept my innocence and count me as a friend. You’ve heard that the man who killed your noble father also tried to kill me.

Laertes

That certainly appears to be the case. But, tell me: Why didn’t you prosecute such serious offenses? They’re death penalty crimes, and threats to your own safety and power, for which your good judgement should have stirred you to act.

Claudius

For two particular reasons, which, to you, may seem very weak. But to me they’re important. First of all, the queen, his mother, lives for him. And it’s either my virtue, or my fault, that she’s such an important part of my life, that I couldn’t oppose her – no more than a star could leave its position in the sky. The second reason why I couldn’t publicly accuse Hamlet is that he’s so popular with the general public. They dip his faults into a pool of their affections, covering his guilt with a coating of innocence [See note]. My accusations would not be strong enough, and would backfire on me, just as a light arrow, shot into a strong wind, is blown back and falls upon the archer.

Laertes

So, I’ve lost my noble father, and my sister has gone mad, who, before all this happened, was the model of perfection. I’ll get my revenge.

Claudius

Don’t lose sleep over this. I’m made of sterner stuff than to be threatened and do nothing. You’ll hear more shortly. I loved your father, and I’m protecting myself. This should show you ...

What is it?

Messenger

Letters, my lord, from Hamlet. This to your majesty, this one to the queen.

Claudius

From Hamlet! Who brought them?

Messenger

Sailors, my lord, I’m told. I didn’t see them. Claudio gave them to me. He got them from the sailors.

Claudius

Laertes, you should hear what they say.  

[To the Messenger] Leave us.

“High and mighty King, you should know that I have arrived back in your kingdom, unarmed. Tomorrow, I shall request a meeting with you, and then, after getting your permission, I shall explain to you the circumstances of my strange return to Denmark.

Hamlet.”

What does this mean? Have they all returned? Is this some kind of trick, or something else entirely?

Laertes

Do you recognize the handwriting?

Claudius

It’s Hamlet’s writing. “Unarmed”, he says. Then at the bottom, he adds, “alone.”

Laertes

I’m confused, my lord, but let him come. It eases my bitter feelings, knowing the day will come when I can look Hamlet in the face and say, “This is what you did.”

Claudius

If it’s true that Hamlet’s returned – but how could that be, yet what else could it mean – will you agree to do what I say?

Laertes

Only if you’ll not force me to make peace with Hamlet.

Claudius

Do what I ask, and you’ll have peace of mind. If he’s returned to Denmark, and refuses to continue on to England, then I’ll entice him into an undertaking which I’m devising. My scheme will result in his certain death, for which there won’t be a hint of murder. Even his own mother would acquit us of any charges and call it an accident. A couple of months ago, a French nobleman from Normandy visited Elsinore. I’ve seen many Frenchmen on horseback, and I’ve fought against French cavalry. They ride very well. But this particular gentleman appeared to be supernatural. He seemed to grow out of the saddle and was able to perform such amazing exercises, as if he and the horse were joined in body and mind.

Laertes

He was from Normandy, you say.

Claudius

Yes, a Norman.

Laertes

I swear, it must be Lamound.

Claudius

That’s him.

Laertes

I know him well. He’s the pride and joy of France.

Claudius

He said that he’s heard of you also, that you’re famous for your fencing ability, especially with the rapier sword. Hearing this made Hamlet so jealous that he wished you would return from France to have a fencing match against him. Now, given all this...

Laertes

Then what, my lord?

Claudius

Laertes, did you really love your father, or are you just a painting of sorrow, a sad face with no heart inside?

Laertes

Why do you ask this?

Claudius

It’s not that I don’t think you loved your father. But love may flourish at one point in time, yet – and I know this from experience – as time goes by, its intensity diminishes. Hamlet has returned. What would you do to show that you’re your father’s son – not just with words, but with acts?

Laertes

I would cut his throat in a church.

Claudius

Indeed, not even a church should be a sanctuary for a murderer like Hamlet. Revenge should have no constraints. Here’s what I want you to do. Keep to your room – don’t worry – Hamlet will have heard that you’ve come home. We’ll get people to praise your swordsmanship, which, added to what he’s heard from the Frenchman, will spur him to a fencing match with you, on which we’ll place bets. Because Hamlet is so naive and would never imagine anyone scheming, he won’t examine the practice swords. He won’t notice that one of them is missing the safety guard over the point. With a little shuffling, you should be able to select this one. With one treacherous thrust, you’ll repay Hamlet for your father.

Laertes

I’ll do it, and, to help attain our objective, I’ll anoint my sword – but not with holy oil. I’ve bought a poison so deadly that one scratch from a knife dipped in it will cause certain death, even if the wound were treated with rarest of ointments, made from the most powerful herbs. I’ll dip the point of my sword in it so that, even if I just graze Hamlet, he’ll be dead.

Claudius

Let’s think through this plan further, consider what timing and means are required. If it doesn’t succeed, and our involvement is exposed, better we had never attempted it. Therefore, we need a backup plan in case this one fails. Let me think. We could place a bet on you winning ... I have it! In the course of the match, when you both become thirsty – make the bouts as physical as possible just for that purpose – he’ll ask for something to drink. I’ll have prepared a special drink just for this occasion. If, by chance, he escapes your poisoned sword, then with one sip we’ll still achieve our goal.

Claudius

How are you, Gertrude?

Gertrude

The miseries are coming so fast, each one is treading on the heels of the one before it. Laertes, your sister has drowned.

Laertes

Drowned! Where?

Gertrude

There is a willow tree that grows over the stream. You can see its frosty leaves reflected in the waters. She made a flower wreath to hang in the tree, decorating it with buttercups, nettles, daisies, and long purples – which crude shepherds call a vulgar term, but polite young ladies call “dead men’s fingers”. There, out on the drooping branches, she was climbing to hang her wreath when a cruel tree limb broke.

Then she and her crown of flowers fell into the tearful brook. Her clothes spread out on the water, and kept her afloat for a while, like a mermaid. Meanwhile she was singing bits of old songs, as if she did not understand the danger she was in, or as if she were some aquatic creature equipped to live in the stream. But it could not be long before her clothes, heavy with the absorbed water, pulled the poor girl from where she lay singing down to a muddy death.

Laertes

So, she is drowned.

Gertrude

Yes, drowned.

Laertes

You’ve had too much water, poor Ophelia, and so I should not add to it by crying. But, it’s a normal reaction; it’s our nature to cry in sorrow. Let people think it’s shameful.

After I‘ve finished crying, I’ll be strong again. Goodbye, my lord. I have some fiery things I could express, but for the moment my tears drown them out.

Claudius

I had to work so hard to calm him down. Now I’m afraid he’s going to lose his control again. Let’s follow him, Gertrude.