except my life, except my life, except my life.

There's a scene in Hamlet, Act II scene somethingearlyon, when Hamlet is pretending to be insane so that... actually, I don't even know why. He thinks it's necessary to help him exact revenge, probably. But it's a bit of a stupid move. Still, little Hamlet can do whatever he thinks helps, bless.

In the scene, he's pretending to read, mocking Polonius, the advisor for the king and father of Hamlet's sort-of love interest. Hamlet really doesn't like him, and makes that subtly clear through word play. I won't bore you with the entire scene, but David Tennant did a fantastic version of it in a BBC drama that's on youtube, and it's hilarious. But I am going to give you the last few lines, to help what I'm trying to say.


POLONIUS: (after some stuff that isn't important) My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
HAMLET: You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal - except my life, except my life, except my life.


My teacher pointed out something that instantly struck true to me, and is the main reason I'm going on about Shakespeare right now. While Hamlet is pretending to be insane, and this is a little weird, old Will wouldn't have written it without a reason.

Either he's saying, after he's slyly told Polonius to fuck right off out of his sight, that Polonius took his life away by keeping him from talking to Ophelia, or.

Or. [Dramatic pause that isn't so dramatic.]

If you read the repeated line out loud three times, it starts to sound less like 'except' and more like 'accept'. As if, through the guise of his loose thoughts, he is asking Polonius to accept his life, his choices.

Because Hamlet's a troubled kid, his dad's dead, his mum's sleeping with his uncle, everything's upside down. He really isn't the fighter his dad used to be, and he's conflicted. I get that.

Nobody cares about what Hamlet thinks about what's happening, they all either tell him to suck it up and get over his dad's death, or don't realise there's anything wrong at all. I recognise that, in a way.

I guess, though it doesn't sound as impressive once I've typed it out, that I just really sympathise with Hamlet, and I admire him.

So, tragic little probably 30 years old isn't so little Hamlet, I accept your life, and I get your wishes that the father figures in your life would, too.