HAMLET         A murderer and a villain,

A slave that is not twentieth part the kith

Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings,

A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,

That from a shelf the precious diadem stole

And put it in his pocket, –

GERTRUDE                No more!

HAMLET                                 – a king of shreds and patches –

Enter Ghost.

Save me and hover o’er me with your wings,

You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?

GERTRUDE    Alas, he’s mad!           (3.4.94-102)

Hamlet’s now back to describing, condemning Claudius, first in straightforward, unequivocal terms—a murderer and a villain, a slave that is not twentieth part the kith of your precedent lord, he’s not like your first husband, MY DAD, not even a bit; he’s a vice of kings, vicious, sinful, the most vicious and sinful of the lot. And he’s a cutpurse of the empire and the rule—he stole it, STOLE the crown and the kingdom like a common thief, a pickpocket, that from a shelf the precious diadem stole and put it in his pocket—yes, more like a shoplifter or a burglar, sneaky, opportunistic. No more!Gertrude protests, weakly, again—but Hamlet barely draws breath: Claudius is a king of shreds and patches, made up of scraps, the bits left over when my FATHER, your HUSBAND, the proper KING, was cut from whole cloth. Claudius is botched together from the off-cuts.

But suddenly, enter Ghost (and in Q1 he’s in his nightgown, entirely at home, in dressing gown or casual, comfortable dress, not court dress, let alone the armour of his first appearance). Hamlet’s stunned, terrified, and his first appeal—which might initially sound like an appeal to the Ghost—is in fact for angelic or divine protection: save me and hover o’er me with your wings, you heavenly guards! (He said something similar when he first encountered the Ghost in 1.4: Angels and ministers of grace defend us!) What would your gracious figure, what do you want, what can I do for you?

But—apparently, although some productions make a different choice—Gertrude can’t see the Ghost, and she’s baffled, appalled, terrified anew, for a different reason: alas, he’s mad! Hamlet’s really lost it now…