What was his fucking problem?

GUIL: He caught us on the wrong foot once or twice, perhaps, but I
thought we gained some ground.
ROS (simply): He murdered us.
GUIL: He might have had the edge.
ROS (roused): Twenty-seven - three, and you think he might have had the
edge?! He murdered us.
GUIL: What about our evasions?
ROS: Oh, our evasions were lovely. "Were you sent for?" he says. "My
lord, we were sent for..." I didn't where to put myself.
GUIL: He had six rhetoricals -
ROS: It was question and answer, all right. Twenty-seven questions he
got out in ten minutes, and answered three. I was waiting for you to delve.
"When is he going to start delving?" I asked myself.
GUIL: - And two repetitions.
ROS: Hardly a leading question between us.
GUIL: We got his symptoms, didn't we?
ROS: Half of what he said meant something else, and the other half
didn't mean anything at all.
GUIL: Thwarted ambition - a sense of grievance, that's my diagnosis.
ROS: Six rhetorical and two repetitions, leaving nineteen of which we
answered fifteen. And what did we get in return? He's depressed!...
Denmark's a prison and he'd rather live in a nutshell; some shadow-play
about the nature of ambition, which never got down to cases, and finally one
direct question which might have led somewhere, and led in fact to his
illuminating claim to tell a hawk from a handsaw.
(Pause.)
GUIL: When the wind is southerly.
ROS: And when the weather is clear.
GUIL: And when it isn't he can't.
ROS: He's at the mercy of the elements.

All b8 aside, this is not far off. He's too caught up in inward feelings and intellectual speculation to act sensibly.

>be hamlet
>dad dies
>uncle marries your mom before your father's corpse was cold
> your gf betrays you
>your 2 best friends from college betray you
I can see why he was a little upset

Afflicted, are we?
Also, thanks for writing that out - I actually hadn't caught the humour in "he murdered us" till I'd seen it written.

He participated in No-Fap-November and it drove him too horny

HAMLET
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

OPHELIA
No, my lord.

HAMLET
I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA
Ay, my lord.

HAMLET
Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA
I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET
That’s a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA
What is, my lord?

HAMLET
Nothing.

She drowned herself, and she did so because Hamlet cucked her and then stabbed her dad to death.

kek

Was Hamlet the world's first troll?

>country matters

wh-what?

Cunt

Literally cunt-ry
Like the female sex organ. Shakespeare makes American Pie look tame as fuck

My suspicions are confirmed

The "Nothing" at the end is pretty indicative of what said. I haven't read the play in quite a while, but as far as I remember, Hamlet is the image of a young man so paralyzed by, mainly, his mortality and sense of cosmic insignificance that it prevents him from taking action. This feeds back into his own sense of insignificance, until he's eventually driven to madness. (Or at least, he starts out feigning it, but it eventually cascades to the point where the distinction between "is" and "is acting like" is virtually meaningless.)

The moral of the story is, like, look, just do what you gotta do, man.

didn't explicitly make the connection but i just find the "Nothing" poignant because him being lewd and then backing out reminded me of when i was a teenager, when i would say things ironically, then disavow them if they were perceived negatively. CLASSIC

No, he was still being lewd.

>HAMLET
>That’s a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

>OPHELIA
>What is, my lord?

>HAMLET
>Nothing.

Still talking about her vagina. No dick. It's a hole. Nothing there.

but Ophelia was a trap

From The Birth of Tragedy:

While the transport of the Dionysian state, with its suspension of all the ordinary barriers of existence, lasts, it carries with it a Lethean element in which everything that has been experienced by the individual is drowned. This chasm of oblivion separates the quotidian reality from the Dionysian. But as soon as that quotidian reality enters consciousness once more it is viewed with loathing, and the consequence is an ascetic, abulic state of mind. In this sense Dionysian man might be said to resemble Hamlet: both have looked deeply into the true nature of things, they have gained knowledge and are now loath to act. They realize that no action of theirs can work any change in the eternal condition of things, and they regard the imputation as ludicrous or debasing that they should set right the time which is out of joint. Knowledge kills action, for in order to act we require the veil of illusion; such is Hamlet's doctrine, not to be confounded with the cheap wisdom of Jack the Dreamer, who through too much reflection, as it were a surplus of possibilities, never arrives at action. What, both in the case of Hamlet and of Dionysian man, overbalances any motive leading to action, is not reflection but knowledge, the apprehension of truth and its terror. Now no comfort any longer avails, desire reaches beyond the transcendental world, beyond the gods themselves, and existence, together with its glittering reflection in the gods and an immortal Beyond, is denied. The truth once seen, man is aware everywhere of the ghastly absurdity of existence, comprehends the symbolism of Ophelia's fate and the wisdom of the wood sprite Silenus: nausea invades him.

Great reading of Hamlet.

Nothing = vagina in early modern English.

Guys have "things"

Girls have "no things"

Much ado about Nothing - much ado about Pussy.