Hamlet has taken his plan too far! He
has killed my father, run his princely sword through my father’s flesh as if he
were a rat. I applaud King Claudius’ decision to send Hamlet away!
How could Hamlet do this to me? What
action could I have possibly committed to deserve the way he has treated me? I
loved him with the entirety of my soul, my heart, and my body. I believed he
loved me as well, and although I realize I was incorrect, that is no
justification for Hamlet’s actions!
My father is gone! The spark of life
has escaped the only parent I have ever known. Laertes and I, we are orphans
now, alone in this world. How I wished Laertes could have been by my side when
I first heard the news, just as he had always been there for me when we were
children. However, my brother did not return until a few days after my father’s
death, so I originally grieved alone, both angry and despondent, primarily at
Hamlet.
I yearn to despise Hamlet, to be rid
of the emotions for him that remains engraved deep within me, but I cannot. After
all the pain he has caused me to feel, I cannot cease to love him any more than
I can cease to be a woman.
Oh, how cruel is fate! Being a woman
is the reason for all of my misfortune. My father and brother, as much as I
love them, have repressed me because of my gender. Obedience to them kept me in
the place expected of me as a woman, as an object meant to be silent and
admired. Hamlet has rejected me, even taking my virtue and spoiling me for any
other man in the process, and has every right to because of HIS gender.
I
have decided that I will not concede any longer! I have had to remain silent
for far too long as a result of my gender. If Hamlet can feign madness for his
own purpose, so can I. I have a voice and I demand to be heard!
Throughout
the castle, I have wandered around aimlessly, singing songs with more meaning
than many will ever know. Most of what I speak makes only half sense as part of
my charade and it is working. Eventually, I was amazed at the realization that
people actually FEARED me for the way I have been acting. The other day, even Queen
Gertrude did not wish to speak to me because of my madness!
It
gave me an immense sense of power, not just the fact that the queen feared me,
but that I had the freedom to say whatever I pleased without any repercussions
for it. I mourned aloud for all to hear, singing of my father’s death, which I
am sure even those of the dullest wit could interpret.
I
also sang of the events that transpired between Hamlet and me, telling all who
listened of truth I was tired of keeping secret. I sang of how we made love and
how Hamlet took my maidenhood:
“Then up he rose and donned his clothes
And dupped the chamber door;
Let in the maid that out a maid
Never departed more.”
I sang of how Hamlet deceived me,
vowing to love and marry me, when all he wanted was to take part in my bed:
“Quote she, ‘Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.’
He answers – So would I ha’done, by yonder
sun,
And thou hadst not come to my bed.”
Most exhilarating of all, though,
was when I was able to confront the King and Queen with my opinion of the
events that occurred, but no one noticed. I gave Queen Gertrude fennel and
columbines, which are flowers symbolic of faithfulness, referring to her hasty
second marriage. It was my way of rebuking her for being disloyal to her first
husband. Next, I gave King Claudius rue, symbolic of repentance. My gift
accused him of his murderous sin and instructed him to repent.
Of course, to everyone else, my
floral gifts meant nonsense. As I left that day, I noticed everyone’s eyes were
full of both pity and fear, watching me as if they both wanted to help me with
and feared the actions of my madness. I have never felt so free from my cage,
so free to chirp my song, so free to feel the power of the wind beneath my
wings.
It was utterly and undeniably intoxicating.
By feigning madness, I have been
able to lift the restraints of my gender. For the most part, that is. There is
still one aspect of my gender that worries me, one that I have a lack of control over.
There is the possibility that I may
be with child, Hamlet’s child, another prince or a princess for Denmark.
No amount of madness could change
the outcome if I am with child. The child would be evidence of my loss of
virtue, a symbol of my own sin. As unfair as it is, Hamlet’s life would not be
ruined because he is a man, but as a woman, my life would be. I cannot even
imagine Laertes’ reaction! At least my father would not be alive to witness his
daughter’s downfall. I can begrudgingly thank Hamlet for that.
All I can do is wait, mourn my
father’s death, and pray that God will have mercy on me, despite my sins, and that
my bleeding will commence momentarily.
If my prayers remain unanswered, I know not what I shall do.
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