CLAUDIUS      A very ribbon in the cap of youth.

Yet needful too, for youth no less becomes

The light and careless livery that it wears

Than settled age his sables and his weeds

Importing health and graveness. Two months since

Here was a gentleman of Normandy –

I have seen myself, and served against, the French

And they can well on horseback, but this gallant

Had witchcraft in’t; he grew unto his seat

And to such wondrous doing brought his horse

As had he been incorpsed and demi-natured

With the brave beast. So far he topped my thought

That I in forgery of shapes and tricks

Come short of what he did.  (4.7.76-89)

This is such a weird little diversion: Claudius is setting something up by flattering Laertes, but his oblique approach is mesmerising, snake-like, as Laertes has to hang on his every word; even puzzlement, keeping him guessing, is a power-play. Oh, the part of yours that I’m praising is a very ribbon in the cap of youth, the icing on the cake, Claudius begins. He’s partly setting up a contrast between himself—suggesting that he’s past his prime—whereas Laertes is at his peak of manhood, gallantry. (You’re the obvious person to undertake this, is partly the subtext, the only person, even; me, unfortunately, I’m past it, although in my time…) Yet needful too—this as-yet unnamed skill, it’s entirely appropriate—for youth no less becomes the light and careless livery that it wears than settled age his sables and his weeds importing health and graveness. Just as young men wear fashionable clothes and older men—such as myself—wear furs and more sombre dress—this skill, it’s the property of young men such as yourself! (Is he going to say what he’s talking about? Not yet.)

A seeming tangent: two months since here was a gentleman of Normandy—oh yes? Laertes might be nodding along still, politely, or baffled—and by the way, I have seen myself, and served against, the French, and they can well on horseback—yes, didn’t you realise, I’ve fought against the French (Laertes, polite smile, nod nod) and they’re marvellous riders, marvellous—but this gallant had witchcraft in’t. This guy, he was something else again. He grew unto his seat and to such doing brought his horse as had he been incorpsed and demi-natured with the brave beast. He was like a centaur, the way he moved at one with it. (Laertes might be looking openly lost by now.) So far he topped my thought that I in forgery of shapes and tricks come short of what he did. He did things I couldn’t even imagine, let alone perform.

(Appropriately, a small excursus about horses. Horses are very often a way of invoking Plato’s charioteer, the classic way of portraying the conflict between passion and reason. Here Claudius describes a rider with iron control over his horse, passion entirely sublimated to reason; the role of reason is one of Hamlet’s obsessions, and here it seems to be Claudius’s too, as he admires a picture of total control, and carefully wins over Laertes to do exactly what he wants him to do.)