HAMLET         I loved Ophelia – forty thousand brothers

Could not with all their quantity of love

Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

CLAUDIUS      O, he is mad, Laertes.

GERTRUDE     For love of God, forbear him.            (5.1.258-262)

On the page, especially, it’s the sheer narcissism that comes across, look at Hamlet, making it all about him (again). But, at least in its first clause, it’s also a howl of utter abject grief and frustration, a howl that he’s perhaps never howled for his father, or at least not in public. I loved Ophelia—and she loved me? we loved each other? I loved, I was lovable, I was loved in return! Another life. And yes, mum, you were right, I wanted to marry her too, and that’s my theme, that’s what I’m prepared to fight for here. Because (and this is what strains sympathy) forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum. I loved her more than you, Laertes! There’s no way you could love her more than I do! It’s petty, immature, but pathetic too; it speaks to Hamlet’s sense of isolation and futility (and it distracts from how badly Hamlet treated Ophelia, and the fact that he killed her father). What wilt thou do for her? he demands of Laertes. Go on, how are you going to show how much you loved her? How are you going to demonstrate the depths of your great brotherly love? You can’t, can you, just admit it, I loved her more than you. O, he is mad, Laertes: Claudius happens to be right; he also doesn’t want Hamlet to kill Laertes, or Laertes to kill Hamlet in these circumstances. Better to close this down NOW. Gertrude’s appalled, but sympathetic: for love of God, forbear him, have some sympathy, he’s clearly Very Upset, perhaps everyone should just try to calm down, we all loved Ophelia, after all. But no…