That I had nothing to do with your father’s death, and that I’m very saddened by it, will become as clear to you as daylight. Now you’re speaking like a good son and a true gentleman. To his good friends, I’ll give my blood – like pelicans who give their blood to their chicks to bring them back to life. How will you know his enemies from his friends? Laertes Laertes, if you want to know the truth about your father’s death, why are you hastily drawing your sword, against both friends and enemies. The little resources I have, I’ll conserve them so they go far. No matter what happens to me in this life, or the next, I’m standing firm on this one thing – I’ll get revenge for my father’s death. I couldn’t care less if I’m condemned to hell. To hell with allegiance to the King! Religious vows, moral conscience, sense of decency – forget about them. Tell me, Laertes, why are you so incensed? – Let him go, Gertrude – Speak, man. There’s a divine protection which provides a barrier around a king, through which, rebellion can only peep, not act. Why are you rebelling against your king? Let him go, Gertrude. If I had just one drop of “calm” blood in me, I’d be a bastard, and my mother should be branded a prostitute. Oh, you rotten king, give me back my father! Gertrude Oh, you’re following the trail in the wrong direction, you stupid Danish dogs! How cheerfully they cry out, like hunting dogs excited by a false scent. It’s as if they’ve forgotten our country’s long history and customs, which are the only things which can give true meaning to the word “king.” Gertrude The rabble call him "Lord", cry out, “We choose Laertes as our king,” throw their caps in the air, and cheer him to the utmost. Save yourself, my lord! It’s Laertes, at the head of a riotous mob that overwhelms your guards, like the ocean overflowing a breakwater.
Guards! Where are my guards? Have them man the door. Oh, Gertrude, receiving all this bad news is like being hit by shrapnel – and each wound is lethal. They’ll do anything to accuse me in their rumors. There are plenty of busybodies to incite him with poisonous accounts of his father’s death, which, of course, are fabrications, since the public doesn’t know the facts of the matter.
He’s heard the wild stories, but hasn’t revealed what he intends to do. Lastly, and just as important, her brother has secretly returned from France. Poor Ophelia, she’s lost her rational judgment, without which, one is just the image of a human being, no more than a dumb beast. We acted like real amateurs, burying him in secret. The public, confused and uninformed, has unhealthy thoughts and has spread rumors about good Polonius’s death.
First her father is killed, and then Hamlet is sent away to England – and that because of his own violent behavior. When troubles arrive, they don’t come one at a time like enemy spies, but as a whole army. This is the effect of extreme grief from her father’s death. Where’s the beautiful Queen of Denmark? Gertrude A guilty person, unable to disguise his distrust, gives himself away because of his fear of being found out. To the sick soul of a sinner like myself, every little thing seems like the beginning of a disaster. Otherwise, she’s likely to plant dangerous ideas in evil minds. It would be good if somebody speaks with her. But the only certain thing is that she’s unhappy. She winks and nods, which gives the impression that she’s trying to express something. They guess at it, and rearrange her words to match their own thoughts. There’s no meaning in her words, but their randomness allows listeners to imagine one. She stammers, gets upset, takes offense easily, and only makes half sense. She talks a lot about her father, and says that she’s heard of dishonorable incidents after his death.
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