Blog Post #16: Hamlet Blog Post #4

To-day I found parchment, written upon it was a story-mine own self were the subject! Sad was it's tune, for it blamed mine brother and father for the end of my breathe with such a harsh whipping of words. O, but 'tis common knowledge of the wise that the bitterest tunes sing true. Laertes' words of mine and Hamlet's love to be a "fashion" (3.1.6.) fell bitter in mine heart, and filled me with doubt. T'was a "shock to her gentle nature" (Seng, 220) indeed. Never in mine life had I been so betrayed, by Laertes' words, none less Hamlet's actions. Laertes called Hamlet's "triflings" "a violet in the youth of primy nature" (3.1.5-7.) Ha! Cannot be truth, for Hamlet declared his love for me worthed more than "fourty thousand brothers" (5.1.247.) 'Tis truly "not the language of trifling, beguilement, or seduction" (Seng, 222) because his love was true, his madness as well. Possible to blame Hamlet for drowning out mine own madness? Nay, never. Even as breathe still filled my lungs, my madness only helped me defend mine Hamlet to Laertes when I spoke, "I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died." (4.5.155-156.) Again I find truth in this parchment, that I "paid him back in a verbal kind." (Seng, 224.) I cannot speak about my father long, it does put weight on mine supernatural heart, but he is at fault as much as is Laertes, for his mocking tone when he asked me, "Do you believe his “tenders,” as you call them?" (1.3.103.) put just as much doubt in my heart about Hamlet as Laertes. I now know in my new state that Hamlet loved me so, and that is all I need know.