OPHELIA        The King rises.

GERTUDE       How fares my lord?

POLONIUS      Give o’er the play.

CLAUDIUS      Give me some light, away.

POLONIUS!     Lights! Lights!

Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO.

HAMLET          Why let the stricken deer go weep,

    The hart ungalled play,

    For some must watch while some must sleep.

    Thus runs the world away.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, with provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players?

HORATIO        Half a share.

HAMLET         A whole one, I.           (3.2.258-272)

It’s SO much more effective for Claudius’s response to be communicated by the others in the scene: the King rises! says Ophelia, wonderingly, confused. Gertrude’s worried: how fares my lord? are you ok? Give o’er the play, orders Polonius, taking charge: stop the show! Claudius just wants to get out of there: give me some light, away! Whether he’s being escorted out, with torches, or whether it reads as a command to bring the lights up, it’s disruptive, agitated; lights, lights!calls Polonius, quick, bring torches, get the king out of here! —and everyone leaves, all at once, presumably including the players, Claudius perhaps visibly trying to hold on to his dignity and composure.

Hamlet can barely contain his glee, trotting out a fragment of a ballad: why let the stricken deer go weep, the hart ungalled play. I’ve got him! Claudius is the wounded deer, gone to lick his wounds, attempt to regroup and recover; Hamlet is the hart who is unharmed: I pulled it off, he’s saying, I did it, for some must watch while some must sleep. We’ve got evidence now; nothing gets past us! Thus runs the world away: this is how to do it, this is the way of the world. Ha! High five!

And then he preens a bit: how good am I at this play-acting and playwrighting thing? Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers—presumably on a hat?—if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, if I’ve blown my cover and it’s all downhill from here—if I have to leave the court and get a job—I’ll become an actor! With provincial roses on my razed shoes: some editions make this provençal, suggesting elaborate rosettes, a common decoration on shoes; actors seem to have favoured highly decorated shoes perhaps to compensate for their practical nature, because the soft leather shoes worn by social elites would not have withstood the rigours of playing, and players’ shoes had to fit to allow for fighting and dancing. While the razing, fashionable slashing, would have been decorative it also might have eased the fit, accommodated corns and bunions. If I get the right footwear, in addition to my other obvious talents, just demonstrated, surely it’ll get me a fellowship in a cry of players? they’d make me a partner right away, wouldn’t they, give me a share? Horatio’s drily restrained, even skeptical: maybe half a share? Don’t go overboard (and calm down, easy, easy). A whole one, I: Hamlet’s unstoppable, absolutely buzzing. How good am I? Gotcha!