Enter CLAUDIUS with ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
CLAUDIUS There’s matter in these sighs, these profound heaves.
You must translate; ’tis fit we understand them.
Where is your son?
GERTRUDE Bestow this place on us a little while.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen tonight!
CLAUDIUS What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
GERTRUDE Mad as the sea and wind when both contend
Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries ‘A rat, a rat!’
And in this brainish apprehension kills
The unseen good old man. (4.1.1-12)
The suggestion is that Gertrude remains onstage from the previous scene, although productions can very much suggest a change of location, especially if the closet has been staged as a bedroom. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are still hanging on, trying to make amends, get further back in Claudius’s good books; they’ve been giving further reports of Hamlet, although by the sound of it nothing startling: there’s matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: so, Hamlet’s been sighing a lot, has he? Well, that must mean something. You must translate; ’tis fit we understand them: it’s all very well coming to me to say ‘Hamlet is sighing deeply’ if you can’t give me some idea why. (Claudius has made his mind up that Hamlet is off to England, never to return, but he’s got to keep Rosencrantz and Guildenstern onside and with at least the illusion of being useful and valued; he’s depending on them to get Hamlet on his way.)
And then he sees Gertrude, perhaps sees too that something’s up? Where is your son? Bestow this place on us a little while, is all Gertrude can say, holding it together with dignity, a bit of the grande dame, and letting Claudius know that something is definitely up. Off trot R&G, again, fated always to be being dismissed without being able to say a word; it’s its own running gag. Gertrude starts to let go: ah, mine own lord, what have I seen tonight! It’s so awful! I can’t believe it! What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? What’s he done now? Why are you so distressed? (And he can be genuinely concerned, for her as much as for himself; she can still be seeking safety, reassurance, comfort.)
Oh, he’s mad as the sea and wind when both contend which is the mightier. He’s RAGING, Hamlet’s absolutely RAGING. He’s out of his mind. And in his lawless fit, completely out of control, not himself, behind the arras hearing something stir, whips out his rapier, cries ‘A rat, a rat!’—it’s as if Gertrude’s seeing it again, replaying the moment—and in this brainish apprehension kills the unseen good old man. He didn’t know what he was doing! He wasn’t thinking straight! (The degree to which Gertrude is putting on a performance herself here is moot: to what extent is she obeying Hamlet’s orders to maintain the assumption of his madness?) She can’t even name Polonius, as she revisits the horror of what’s just happened, oddly sidelined in its immediate aftermath by Hamlet’s complete dominance of their conversation (and the appearance of the Ghost). Good old man: a reminder Polonius was Ophelia’s father, Claudius (and Gertrude’s) right hand, fussy and annoying and managing though he be. Was. And now, shockingly, he’s dead. The one to whom the Danish monarchy has customarily turned for damage limitation is now collateral damage himself.