HAMLET But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself,
For by the image of my cause I see
The portraiture of his. I’ll count his favours;
But sure the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.
HORATIO Peace, who comes here?
Enter OSRIC, a courtier.
OSRIC Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
HAMLET I humbly thank you, sir. [aside to Horatio] Dost know this water-fly?
HORATIO [aside] No, my good lord. (5.2.66*-70)
This passage from the folio text—Hamlet’s lines and Horatio’s warning—does some work to rehabilitate Hamlet; he’s simmered down a bit and he recognises that he’s behaved appallingly: but I am very sorry, good Horatio, that to Laertes I forgot myself. I lost control, I didn’t act in a way that befits a gentleman and a prince. I was unkind, even. And Hamlet’s recognising that he and Laertes have much in common: for by the image of my cause I see the portraiture of his. After all, we’re in the same situation, both grieving sons, wanting to avenge our fathers. (Yes, Hamlet, it’s a significant concession, and your sincerity isn’t in doubt—he’s using names, always a good sign. But the difference is, he KILLED Laertes’s father, and he’s not even mentioning Ophelia, although it could be understood as saying that he and Laertes are both mourning Ophelia too.) Portraiture’s interesting, because it makes the pattern of doubles and pairs in the play particularly visual; it glances back to Hamlet’s taunting of Gertrude with the pictures of both her husbands, too. I’ll count his favours, observe his good qualities (although editors sometimes emend to court, seek his forgiveness). But sure the bravery of his grief did put me into a towering passion: I couldn’t help myself, he was in such a fury, so extreme in his behaviour that it set me off too. That jumping into the grave business… Hamlet’s been struck by extreme emotion in others before—by the Player in the Pyrrhus speech—but while then he felt inhibited, inadequate, now he’s experienced a kind of release, enablement, in the passions of others. Something’s shifted.
No room to pursue this, however; Horatio’s keeping an eye on things: peace, who comes here? shhhhh, we need to be careful. And—even at this late moment—a new character, a little cameo (played by one of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?), a satirical sketch of a courtier. Osric, who is formal, obsequious, perhaps a dandy, very often camped up because this show’s been going for hours and everyone is slightly hysterical and running on fumes: your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. It’s absurd, everyone knows what’s happened down in the graveyard, and right welcome is a stretch. But the proprieties must be observed, as Hamlet does too: I humbly thank you, sir; it’s automatic, but also amused, what? really? Who the HELL is this? Dost know this water-fly? he asks Horatio, water-fly generally assumed to mean both lightweight and that Osric is dressed extravagantly, perhaps with the shot silk, the changeable taffeta which might evoke the iridescent wings of dragonflies. Horatio’s wearing his usual scholarly black, Hamlet’s quite possibly still wearing what he was wearing at the graveside, minus cloak, almost certainly not back in formal court dress. No, my good lord, mutters Horatio. No idea, but right now, NOTHING would surprise me.
