In terms of the number of lines, Hamlet is the longest play in Shakespeare, and the title character the longest part. Of course, the fact fits in with one of its central themes: the relationship between words and deeds, and how they mix in human minds and lives. One great example occurs in 1.3. As Laertes is leaving to return to Paris, he says goodbye to Ophelia by warning her not to trust in Hamlet's romantic interest. The scene begins thus:

LAERTES

My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:

And, sister, as the winds give benefit

And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,

But let me hear from you.

OPHELIA

Do you doubt that?

LAERTES

For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,

Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,

The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

OPHELIA

No more but so?

He then goes on to explain that Hamlet, as a prince, can't entirely speak for himself, and if Ophelia gets fooled by his words that she will lose her reputation permanently. This takes him thirty-five lines. Her answer, one of the most wonderful moments in the play, tellingly, receives less than one line in response:

OPHELIA

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own rede.

LAERTES

O, fear me not.

Here's a link to the scene (http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/hamlet.1.3.html).

Further to yesterday's post, I'll continue with my defense of Shakespeare's use of puns by having a look at a scene from Hamlet which shows how they are often used in argument. In this case (1.3), Polonius is questioning Ophelia about the nature of her relationship with the prince, and receives the reply: "He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders/ Of his affection to me". Both the answer and the word "tenders" infuriate him, and he becomes fixated on it and attempts to use it as a way into Ophelia's way of thinking. Thus we get the following, in which he puns on the word three times, while showing that he's aware of the device (almost apologizing for it), and repeating another word of Ophelia's ("think") which he also attempts to twist to his advantage:

LORD POLONIUS

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

OPHELIA

I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

LORD POLONIUS

Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;

Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,

Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool.

I'd argue that it's a mistake to think of punning as no more than a stylistic choice. Rather, it's an integral part of conversation and argument, and happens all the time.

I ended yesterday's post by using an unacknowledged quotation from Hamlet. (By the way, it seems as if Shakespeare is the only writer whom it's OK to quote without citation - otherwise we'd be swimming in footnotes.) It's from Ophelia's mad scene, and it's another fascinating example of how some of the passages containing the greatest wisdom come from some of the most unlikely sources: in this case a character who has gone mad, and who beforehand, had revealed of herself very little, and certainly not this kind of philosophical depth. The exact line is this: "Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be", and it is often overlooked because it's hidden between two lines more in keeping with our perceptions of how a mentally troubled person would speak: "They say the owl was a baker's daughter" and "God be at your table!". But just as Lear's madness brings out his most sane reasoning - as opposed to the beginning of the play when he's technically sane but his actions are the opposite - so does Ophelia's. For the first time in the play, she understands the horrific results of the ambition, treachery and violence that have infected the court and her life. And although it is too late for her, she passes from the play with words and actions "no stronger than a flower", but which have retained their beauty and depth in the imagination of everyone who has read or seen the play.

A term that has become fairly pervasive in the discussion of drama is "metatheatre". It usually refers to dramatic characters that are at least partially conscious of being in a play. It can also refer to the complex responses that audiences may have while viewing a multi-leveled piece. I became aware of many examples of both of the above senses during the time that I spent studying Hamlet recently. I'll give one example today, and one tomorrow. But perhaps a better word for these would be metapoetry, as they both deal with an awareness of the difficulties in its interpretation and comprehension. The first occurs at the beginning of 4.5, where a gentleman and Horatio are trying to convince the queen to intercede with Ophelia, who has recently gone mad after the death of her father. The gentleman is trying to warn the queen that the people will be made afraid and perhaps angry if Ophelia is left to wander about, talking of who-knows-what:

She speaks much of her father; says she hears

There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;

Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,

That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,

Yet the unshaped use of it doth move

The hearers to collection; they aim at it,

And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;

Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them,

Indeed would make one think there might be thought,

Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

Of course, this could be also considered as a comment on the interpretation of poetry, where often readers might "botch the words up fit to their own thoughts". And in a play that deals deeply with themes concerning the nature of language, we are presented with one more pitfall to understand - and thus avoid. The second example is found in the conversation between Hamlet and Osric (the sycophantic courtier who has come to bring the formal offer of the fencing exhibition that will ultimately lead to the deaths of the four remaining central characters). Here Hamlet asks for a definition from Osric, who has been showing off his vocabulary for the prince to humourous effect, and Horatio comments, "I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done." At which point, the reader might look up "margent" in the margin or on the facing page (i.e. the glossary), and the joke becomes clear.