HAMLET         Your bonnet to his right use: ’tis for the head.

OSRIC  I thank your lordship, it is very hot.

HAMLET         No, believe me, ’tis very cold; the wind is northerly.

OSRIC  It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

HAMLET         But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot, or my complexion –

OSRIC  Exceedingly, my lord, it is very sultry, as ’twere – I cannot tell how. My lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that’a has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter –

HAMLET         I beseech you remember.

OSRIC  Nay, good my lord, for my ease, in good faith.           (5.2.79-91)

Three hours in (probably), actors on their knees, and Shakespeare decides it’s just the moment for some clowning with a HAT. Osric’s taken off his hat, perhaps as part of a flourishing bow to Hamlet—wearing hats indoors was normal—and Hamlet’s saying, put it back on: your bonnet to his right use: ’tis for the head. (Perhaps the hat is ridiculously elaborate; it’s sometimes very feathery, picking up on waterfly; it might be too difficult to put back on casually? or look utterly ridiculous when worn rather than carried?) Osric demurs, in any case, he doesn’t want to be discourteous, so he makes an excuse: I thank your lordship, it is very hot. Whew, too hot for hats in here! And Hamlet’s in, no, believe me, ’tis very cold; the wind is northerly. Brrrrr! chilly! Osric’s eyes might dart from side to side, suspecting he’s being mocked, not wanting to disagree with the actual prince: it is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. Now you come to mention it, yes, perhaps a nip in the air. (Does he go to put the hat back on, slowly?) Hamlet goes again, this is too easy: but yet methinks it is very sultry and hot, or my complexion—actually, I’m finding it rather warm, is it just me or is it hot in here?? (And it can be flirty. Horatio must be despairing, or else smiling despite himself at Hamlet’s complete inability to resist this sort of thing.) Osric’s starting to despair, he can’t disagree, might know he’s being mocked, might even flirt back: exceedingly, my lord, it is very sultry, as ’twere—and then runs out of steam, remembering that he has a job to do, and besides, he’s baffled, knows he can’t win. I cannot tell how. My lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that ’a has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter – My message is, my message from the king, is that he’s betting on you! Massively! And this is what it’s about! Hamlet’s still caught up in his mocking little game: I beseech you remember. Put the hat back on, go on. There could be a helpful gesture, a mime: hat, HEAD. Nay, good my lord, for my ease, in good faith. Please just let me deliver my message and stop pestering me about my hat! (Osric, close cousin to Starveling as Moon in Pyramus and Thisbe??)