GHOST                        I find thee apt.

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:

’Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abused. But know, thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father’s life

Now wears his crown.          (1.5.31-40)

I find thee apt, says the Ghost, reassured; OK, I reckon you’re up for this, that I can trust you with this. Mind you, duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed that roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf wouldst thou not stir in this. You’d have to be stupid, insensitive, and cowardly, more so than a completely unidentifiable plant… a weed, flabby, watery perhaps—and so weak—that grows beside the river of forgetfulness, if what I’m about to tell you failed to move you to action. You’d have to be a total weed (except that sounds v Molesworth), not even a beast but a plant, and a weed at that, not even sentient, a complete waste of space. (Show that you’re a man, show that you’re my son, is one of the subtexts all through here.) And forgetfulness: so this is about remembering as well as revenge?

Now, Hamlet, hear: this is the truth, the real story, this is why I’m here. Listen. ’Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, a serpent stung me. Hamlet’s nodding, yes, that’s what we were all told, that’s what my mother told me! that’s what the messenger said, when he arrived, finally, breathless, panicked, in Wittenberg, had me called out of a lecture, stammering with the responsibility. You were having your nap in the garden and you were bitten by a snake? No, Hamlet. So the whole ear of Denmark—imagining Denmark as a single body, as Claudius has, with the one brow of woe—is by a forged process of my death rankly abused. Everyone’s been taken in by a LIE. It’s as if the body of Denmark itself has been poisoned and is rotting from within, rank and stinking, gross like the fat weed. The Ghost is full of disgust not only at what was done to him, but its aftermath, the abuse of his people and his son.

But know, thou noble youth (I want you to be noble, I’m willing you to be brave), the serpent that did sting thy father’s life now wears his crown. He hasn’t quite come out and said it, yet, voiced the terrible taboo that’s been violated; it’s still almost an emblem, vivid and readily able to be imagined and interpreted: the man and the tree, the snake in the crown.