Domingo, Jeremiah Jireh C. August 2, 2013 -------------------------------------------------
Original Translation from Book:
Oh, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God, God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on ’t, ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this.
But two months dead—nay, not so much, not two.
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr. So loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly.—Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet, within a month—
Let me not think on ’t. Frailty, thy name is woman!—
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father’s body,
Like Niobe, all tears. Why she, even she—
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer!—married with my uncle,
My father’s brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her gallèd eyes,
She married. O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good,
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Oh, how I long for my body to dissolve, defrost, and form itself into a water droplet or that the Supreme Being had not proclaimed His rule against suicide! O Lord, Lord! How drained, dry, and futile the things of this world to me! Darn it! It is like a garden not taken care of and growing more than ever. Things foul and disgusting in nature now thrive in it. Now, it has come to this. My father is dead for almost two months- yes, not even two. Such an excellent king he was, as better to my uncle as a god to a womanizer, and so loving to my mother that he didn’t let the winds blow on her face too hard.— Oh Lord, why should I even remember it? Why, she would cling to him as if she would want him more the more time she is with him. As yet, in a month— I can’t even think about it! Woman, why are you so flawed?—Before she wore the shoes that were long old to his burial, crying heavily— Because she— even an animal would’ve lamented longer!— wedded my uncle, brother of her late husband, who is about as a father like Hercules to his children. Less than a month, after the king’s death, even before her cries ended, she remarried. Oh, how fast she is to commit incest! That is bad and nothing will come good from it but my heart should remain silent, since I cannot show how I truly feel. Conclusion: Nothing good will come from what Gertrude did.
Act 5, Scene 1, Line 3578
Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.
I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; 3580
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave.
In this scene, Gertrude bids farewell to the dead body of princess Ophelia as her Christian burial is taking place. It was first believed that it was an accident that the branch of the willow tree she sat on broke, sending her to the river below resulting in her drowning. After some debate from the characters, it was stated that it could be suicide due to sadness.
When the widowed queen married Cladius, Hamlet conceived a plan to kill him. Using his insanity as a disguise to lower his guard or suspicions towards, Hamlet concocted several plans to do the deed but needed further action in his part. Behind the scenes, Hamlet agreed...
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