The trumpets sounds. Dumb-show follows.

Enter a king and a queen, the queen embracing him and he her. He takes her up and declines his head upon her neck. He lies him down upon a bank of flowers. She seeing him asleep leaves him. Anon come in another man, takes off his crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper’s ears and leaves him. The queen returns, finds the king dead, makes passionate action. The poisoner with some three or four come in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is carried away. The poisoner woos the queen with gifts. She seems harsh awhile but in the end accepts love.

[Exeunt.]

OPHELIA        What means this, my lord?

HAMLET         Marry, this munching mallico! It means mischief.

OPHELIA        Belike this show imports the argument of the play.           (3.2.129-133)

A long and detailed stage-direction (with differences in the various texts; this is Q2) but the action’s clear. What’s crucial? The affection between the king and queen, as they embrace, and in particular the familiar intimacy of he takes her up and declines his head upon her neck. The bank of flowers makes a garden (what was it like? some kind of dais, a flowery rug with a pillow? raising the king up seems likely, even a little, otherwise the sightlines become difficult, the subsequent action much harder. There are mossy banks in prop inventories from the period.) More affection in the queen watching the king sleep, leaving, confident that he’s safe; this is normal, customary. But there’s another man, who removes the crown and kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper’s ears and leaves him. One might imagine the king sleeping on his side, facing the audience—on his back reads as dead and makes the ears much trickier. Then he leaves—taking the crown? not clear. The queen returns, finds the king dead, makes passionate action—laments, beats her breast, falls to her knees in distress? (It’s a replay of Hecuba, another example of a mourning queen.) But all silent.

Then the poisoner with some three or four comes in again—she’s outnumbered, he has support—and they seem to condole with her, to weep, to express shock and sadness and sympathy, to mourn. The dead body is carried away (hence the three or four, needed to do the carrying; it’s a little snapshot of the pragmatics of performance when you can’t do a blackout, you always need to be able to get the bodies off). The poisoner woos the queen with gifts, jewels produced from pockets, flowers as if magicked by a conjuror? Scope for a jewel recognisable as being like one worn by Gertrude? She seems harsh awhile, unmoved, reluctant—but in the end accepts love. There might be an embrace which recalls those at the beginning of the scene. And they exit. There is probably music? Hamlet and Horatio are watching Claudius (and Gertrude); sometimes there’s a sense that the King and Queen are shocked, at least surprised, but managing to keep themselves under control.

What means this, my lord? Ophelia asks the obvious question, perhaps picking up on the tension, suspicious, or else genuinely confused, a theatrical novice, what’s going on, why aren’t they speaking? Marry, this munching mallico! It means mischief. Oho, yes, it’s a cunning plot, a dastardly scheme. Nothing good can come of it. Hamlet’s obscurity and alliteration suggests a kind of glee, full of adrenaline, just holding it together, watching, waiting. Ophelia’s calm, perhaps baffled, perhaps irritated: belike this show imports the argument of the play. That’s it, yes, it’s showing us what the play’s going to be about!

Modern productions have to find an idiom: dance, mime, shadow-play, stylised gestures; something that looks archaic, that allows for a kind of enchantment and suspension, a different order of watching and waiting and wariness in this talky, talky play.