HORATIO                                Is’t possible?

HAMLET         Here’s the commission; read it at more leisure.

But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?

HORATIO        I beseech you.

HAMLET         Being thus benetted round with villains,

Or I could make a prologue to my brains

They had begun the play. I sat me down,

Devised a new commission, wrote it fair –

I once did hold it as our statists do

A baseness to write fair and laboured much

How to forget that learning, but, sir, now

It did me yeoman’s service…            (5.2.25-36)

Is’t possible? Horatio’s shocked, it seems, at this evidence of Claudius’s ruthlessness and double-dealing, whether because he can’t believe it of the man he’s been seeing at work for some time now, or because he can’t believe it of a king. Hamlet’s got evidence, though: here’s the commission, the actual letter; read it at more leisure. When you’ve got time, you can see for yourself. But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? Do you want to know what I did next? (Back to the master storyteller, the dramatist.) I beseech you—go on! And there is still scope, even in this desperate, weird situation, for a sense of shared joke, this is what Hamlet does, spinning yarns, conjuring dramas; this is who Horatio is, his most faithful audience and interlocutor. Being thus benetted round with villains—I was surrounded, in a tight spot, caught in a trap—or I could make a prologue to my brains they had begun the play. I was on the back foot alright, the unwitting star of a show that was already underway without my knowledge; I had to act immediately, no time to think things through. So I sat me down, devised a new commission—drew up a new document on the spot, came up with the wording to make it plausible—wrote it fair, in my best handwriting. I must confess, I once did hold it as our statists do a baseness to write fair and laboured much how to forget that learning: I used to think, like politicians and statesmen, that writing a good hand was beneath me, something left to professional scribes, secretaries: I was all about the ideas, the words, not the copying. Haven’t tried to write nicely for years. (This is a shared joke; yes, Hamlet, you’ve got terrible writing! badge of honour for brilliant young men, the markers of your exam scripts grit their teeth in recognition, oh, messy fountain pen, and an extra answer booklet too, excellent.) But sir, now, it did me yeoman’s service, I was desperately relieved and grateful that I could still do it, still come up with a plausible professional hand in my forgery of an actual royal commission…