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Sometimes an English accent—then a French—
Then English with a strong provincial "burr."
Once an American and once a Jew—
But Danish never, take him how you will!
And strange to say, whate'er his tongue may be.
Whether he's dark or flaxen—English—French—
Though we're in Denmark, a. d., ten—six—two—
He always dresses as King James the First!
Guild. Oh, he is surely mad!
Oph. Well, there again
Opinion is divided. Some men hold
That he's the sanest far of all sane men—
Some that he's really sane, but shamming mad—
Some that he's really mad, but shamming sane—
Some that he will be mad, some that he was—
Some that he couldn't be. But on the whole
(As far as I can make out what they mean)
The favourite theory's somewhat like this:
Hamlet is idiotically sane
With lucid intervals of lunacy.
Ros. We must devise some plan to stop this match!
Guild. Stay! Many years ago, King Claudius
Was guilty of a five-act tragedy.
The play was damned, and none may mention it
Under the pain of death. We might contrive
To make him play this piece before the king.
And take the consequence.
Ros. Impossible!
For every copy was destroyed.
Oph. But one!
My father's!