As the days go by, my son, Hamlet's "change" is getting worse and worse everyday. Today he put on a play of revenge depicting my cruel act of lust for power. My fears have come to pass, he knows my cruel deed. I realized as soon as the Player Queen said the lines, "In second husband let me be accursed! None wed the second but who killed the first." (3.2.165-166) She is explicitly implying that the brother killed the king and now has married the old king's wife. Thus this is the exact same deed that I have done.
I feel like a fire is raging inside me! As soon as Hamlet told me the name of the play was, "The Mouse Trap" (3.2.252) I felt like a cauldron started bubbling itself inside me and gradually became a burning flame of anger and guilt as he causally describes the plot as, "This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of work, but what o' that? Your majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not. Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung." (3.2.252-257) It was as if he were deliberately mocking in front of the court! I was also caught off guard how much the play resembled my cruel deed.
When the Hamlet says "...he poisons him i' th' garden for 's estate. His name Gonzago. The story is extant, and writ in choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife." (3.2.244-247) I was furious and felt like he was trying me in a court of England! (No Offense to the King of England of course) I also felt a striking tang of guilt as I walked away slowly towards my chambers to rest for the night. But my guilt was so strong that I ended up going to the chapel instead. I told God "Oh, my offence is rank. It smells to heaven. It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not. Though inclination be as sharp as will..." (3.3.37-40)
The guilt of the murder I committed is weighing heavy on my conscious and can be seen in the way I write to you, The Kings and Queens of the World. I felt even more guilty and trembled when I saw Hamlet had tried to kill me in my own Chapel. He does not know yet, that I saw him through the wooden wall. I swear I could hear his thoughts murmuring "Now might I do it pat, Now he is a-praying. And now I'll do 't. And so he goes to heaven." (3.3.74-75) I was so terrified that my hands were trembling when I wrote to you today my friends. I feel as tho I have begun my own undoing by murdering my brother. Oh how the guilt eats me away....
I feel like a fire is raging inside me! As soon as Hamlet told me the name of the play was, "The Mouse Trap" (3.2.252) I felt like a cauldron started bubbling itself inside me and gradually became a burning flame of anger and guilt as he causally describes the plot as, "This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of work, but what o' that? Your majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not. Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung." (3.2.252-257) It was as if he were deliberately mocking in front of the court! I was also caught off guard how much the play resembled my cruel deed.
When the Hamlet says "...he poisons him i' th' garden for 's estate. His name Gonzago. The story is extant, and writ in choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife." (3.2.244-247) I was furious and felt like he was trying me in a court of England! (No Offense to the King of England of course) I also felt a striking tang of guilt as I walked away slowly towards my chambers to rest for the night. But my guilt was so strong that I ended up going to the chapel instead. I told God "Oh, my offence is rank. It smells to heaven. It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not. Though inclination be as sharp as will..." (3.3.37-40)
The guilt of the murder I committed is weighing heavy on my conscious and can be seen in the way I write to you, The Kings and Queens of the World. I felt even more guilty and trembled when I saw Hamlet had tried to kill me in my own Chapel. He does not know yet, that I saw him through the wooden wall. I swear I could hear his thoughts murmuring "Now might I do it pat, Now he is a-praying. And now I'll do 't. And so he goes to heaven." (3.3.74-75) I was so terrified that my hands were trembling when I wrote to you today my friends. I feel as tho I have begun my own undoing by murdering my brother. Oh how the guilt eats me away....
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