tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6482070214690123025.post8618494588981763066..comments2011-11-07T20:29:41.964-07:00Comments on A Roomful of Monkeys & Typewriters: Hamlet Group Discussion #1Eric Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11301994616041202444noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6482070214690123025.post-27761849361077732972011-11-07T20:29:41.964-07:002011-11-07T20:29:41.964-07:00My take on Claudius's relationship with Hamlet...My take on Claudius's relationship with Hamlet, excerpted from the parody "Omelet: A Tragedy of Bill Shake-a-Speare" (available for Amazon Kindle at http://t.co/Ev0Z6cqF):<br /><br />Queen Gertie: If scrambled eggs could talk, an Omelet would they be!<br /><br />Clintonius: Of ham and cheese. [Aside.] I'll say this for him. 'Tis a dish with a sprig o' holly on 't. [To Omelet.] We laud thee thy sincere lament, which sure we be is sure well meant. That's your bent, most heaven-sent. But...now, relent. For t'allow eaternal vent to so rageous 'plent is to the gods impious, to this crown anent annoying. It's sweet, the way you burble for your daddy. No, really. Touching. We loved him too. I was his brother. Message: I care. I knew him longer than you did. But you must know your father lost a father, who had lost his, and that one too, and so before him, and that one also, and his one prior, and so ad infinitum, the lot entire. Mourning is good: yes. Gnashing of teeth is fine. For a while. Granted. All right. But that while is up. Stop crying. It's getting cloying. Be a man. Your dad is dead. So are many other men. It happens. We laugh. We cry. We live. We die. I don't know why. Accept it. Try. Defy, and you but offend God, nature (the grass, the trees, the rocks, the bees, the flies), the regulations of our state, thy own seeming better self. Forsooth, each very quark and fiber of the universe, its each jiggling protean proton, doth cry instantient out, "This must be so!" Ah, eh? All weakening, decay, disintegration, corpuscular inanition, the last ragged pointless wretched gasp, the rigor mortis—verily conspire to deport us. And so an end. Why then contend it? Buck up, Puck. Get a grip, Chip. You'll reign some day, and a raining reign reaps but wet hay. Now, as for your request to journey out of town for school, we beseech thee not, such being most retro-reverse to our desire. Stay here and observe events unwind, like some unthreading sinister spool, instead. That'd be better.<br /><br />Courtier One: Well-spoke, m'lord!<br /><br />Courtier Two: 'Twas a speech to die for.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6482070214690123025.post-62569256258003417332011-09-09T19:44:17.601-07:002011-09-09T19:44:17.601-07:00I defiantly think you are right with the whole pre...I defiantly think you are right with the whole premeditated part. It is interesting to me how the first line of action however is a life for a life instead of any other way. However, in the motives of each character i think you are right...there is a big difference.Christopherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08964534764413393745noreply@blogger.com