Oh, woe is me! Hamlet has returned
the heart I had so willingly given him. Returned? Nay! It is more appropriate
to say he has used his sword to carve out the portions of my heart that most
faithfully belonged to him before tossing them to the ground for me to gather.
Today, Hamlet spoke four words I
never fathomed I would ever hear from his lips, those lips I have kissed more
times than I can number.
“I loved you not.” My heart stings with
a surprising strength at the mere memory of the words…
Well, I suppose I should first
explain the circumstance before I continue further.
King Claudius and my father sent me
to Hamlet to find whether or not love for me was the true source of the
prince’s madness while they observed secretly. I strongly disapproved of deceiving
Hamlet in such a manner, but there were two reasons why I conceded. Primarily, I
knew I must obey both my father and the king. The true reason, though, was out
of my own curiosity.
Ever since Hamlet came into my chamber
room so wildly earlier this week, I have been unable to keep my thoughts
elsewhere. I have heard much of Hamlet’s madness, which has upset many, particularly
here at Elsinore. I know, for instance, Queen Gertrude is concerned greatly
with the mental state of her only son.
I wanted to learn for myself if
there was any validity to Hamlet’s madness, so when my father told me of his
plan, I eagerly agreed. If Hamlet was not mad, I believed he would tell me the
truth, if only to relieve me from worry because he loved me.
I had not expected Hamlet to treat
me with such disdain. I see now that I have been a fool!
My conversation with Hamlet had
reached no further than a few phrases before he began to hurt me in a way that
was unexpected and irrational, making me incline towards the notion of Hamlet’s
madness for a moment.
When I attempted to return some
gifts, as instructed by my father, Hamlet denied ever having given me them. He
then began to question my honesty and fairness, leaving me utterly perplexed.
That was when he revealed his lack
of love for me, when he engraved those four words into my heart, “I loved you
not.”
The punishment did not cease there. Hamlet
repeatedly told me to go to a nunnery, the meaning of which I still do not
comprehend. Was he referring to our physical relationship? Does he regret
coming to my chamber room at night to express our love in my bed?
Was this Hamlet’s way of telling me
he no longer wishes to be my husband? He had mentioned he “will have no mo
marriages.” He even told me to marry a fool! Does Hamlet truly no longer want
me as his wife?
Hamlet must be mad or else I have
been deceived. Had I been wrong that night when I thought I saw reason in his
eyes? Nay, I know I did not see madness in them. Even as Hamlet spoke such
cruel words to me today, I continued to look into those sane, recognizable blue
eyes.
Perhaps Hamlet knew we were being
watched and the way I was treated was part of his plan. Even so, I do not see
how treating me with such contempt would fit into any plan. Did he simply not
want others to think his madness was due to our love or did he truly want to be
rid of me?
There was a phrase Hamlet mentioned
that strengthens my belief that he is not mad. He said, “Those that are married
already, all but one shall live.” It seemed like a threat to a married couple. The
only marriage that comes to mind is the one between King Claudius and Queen
Gertrude and it is no secret that Hamlet is against the union. Why else would
he mention such a thing unless he knew either King Claudius or Queen Gertrude was
listening? Surely Hamlet cannot be mad in such a case!
If Hamlet is not mad, though, then
it is true. I have been deceived!
I am no longer pure. I have given my
most precious treasure to the man I thought would treasure me the most. No man
would marry me now. Perhaps that is why Hamlet wishes for me to go to a
nunnery. He is accusing me of moral frailty, of being damaged now that I am no
longer virtuous. The only place I can go to even attempt to regain some of that
virtue is a convent, where I can abstain from sinning.
I
hesitate to admit it, but Laertes and my father were right.
Hamlet has merely used me to gratify
his own desire. I have meant little to him. I have been the toy he played with
when there was nothing else to do and he has thrown me aside now that he has
found a more pressing pastime: pretending to be mad for a greater purpose only
he fully comprehends.
Oh, how I have been naïve!
.
I
feel anger surge within me, building up with heat like a fire that grows faster
than one expects it to. I am not quite sure to whom my anger is addressed
towards. Myself for my naivety? Hamlet for using me? Both?
My
own gender irritates me. After all, I am not the only one who sinned. Hamlet
and I made love TOGETHER. So why am I the only one to be tarnished? Why am I
the one Hamlet tells to go to a nunnery? I do not see him presently preparing
to leave for a monastery.
Enough.
I have made myself nauseous from all this contemplation and do not feel like
writing any longer. I shall go find some mint to calm my belly.
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