In the introduction to Hamlet in William Shakespeare: A Textual Companion, Gary Taylor writes that "of all the two-text plays, Hamlet comes closest to Lear in 'the breadth and complexity of its textual variation apparently resulting from authorial revision' (401). Indeed, the first three texts of Hamlet each offer a distinct insight into the story; although they were more or less combined during the 20th century (and before), separately they each have a different story to tell. As Philip Edwards notes in The Shakespeare Wars: “Anyone who wants to understand Hamlet as a reader, actor, or director must understand the nature of the textual issues in the play and have his or her own view of those issues in order to address the ambiguities. in meaning” (quoted Rosenbaum 30). This will naturally lead individuals to draw their own conclusions about how best to illuminate the piece through its text. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an Original Essay My intention in this essay is not necessarily to crown one edition or textual theory over another. Gary Taylor, Stanley Wells, John Dover Wilson, and many other scholars have devoted countless pages to discussing how the texts might have changed from one edition to the next; I'm only interested in the "how" if it sheds light on the effect of these changes. I also have no particular interest in Shakespeare's "intention" with Hamlet, as I feel that it does not have much effect on how we interpret the play today. Rather, I am interested in exploring Janette Dillon's belief that "theater perhaps looks to researchers to provide theoretical authentication for its practices, while researchers look to theater to provide an authenticating material dimension in a slippery intertextual world” (75). In his book The Shakespeare Wars, Ron Rosenbaum notes that most people who read Hamlet have no idea that they are actually reading a version of the play that Shakespeare never wrote and his company never performed : "What most of us have read is rather: an artificial 'confusion' or superposition of contradictory printed texts of its time and immediately after... the uncertainties with which the editors of Hamlet are grappling make differences crucial in the way Hamlet is printed, read, and performed” (30). Indeed, the responsibility of “translating” what is arguably the most influential work in the history of Western literature is a heavy burden to bear. As Rosenbaum explains, the editorship of Hamlet became something of a curse: "the demands of the profession led the editors to their own tragedies – drink, despair, obsession, a grave premature for at least one of them” (30). .There are three generally recognized substantial texts of Hamlet: the First Quarto of 1603 (Q1, or "Bad Quarto", considered an early draft or "commemorative reconstruction" of the play); 1604/05 Second Quarto (Q2); and the First Folio (F) of 1623.1 Overall, the three texts are generally the same in the presentation of plot and characters: the major differences lie in the details. Modern editions of Hamlet are compiled from a combination of the Q2 and F texts (or sometimes an amalgamation of the two, as is the case with the Norton edition, among others.) This is mainly due to the work by J. Dover Wilson, who in 1934 published his monumental two-volume study, The Texts of Shakespeare's Hamlet. In thiswork, Wilson claimed that Q2 was printed from a handwritten manuscript by Shakespeare himself. This seemed to satisfy most scholars of the time and opened the door for many editors to create their own edited versions of the play. In 1991, Bernice W. Kliman and Paul Bertram produced The Three-Text Hamlet: Parallel Texts of the First and Second. Quartos and First Folio, which was the first version to place the three major texts side by side for ease of comparison. This edition addressed a renewed scholarly interest in all three versions of the play, rather than the myriad amalgamated and edited texts that had been published throughout the 20th century. Textual scholars had argued for this change, noting that "individual texts constitute different versions of the play and their fusion produces a text without authority" (Kliman & Bertram xxi)2. Kliman followed this text with 1996's Enfolded Hamlet, which "solved a problem that had overcome previous editors of multiple-text Hamlets for generations: how to visually represent variant texts and words in a way that allowed comparison?" (Rosenbaum 87) Many of these small variations each have one line of text or less, which were added in F. (For example, in version 1.2, F replaces "Fie on't, ah fie, 'tis an unweeded garden from Q2 with "Fie on't Oh fie, fie, it's a garden without weeds.") Researcher Harold Jenkins, who has devoted much of his research to understanding and explaining these additions, lists sixty- five examples of these "theater interpolations", so named because many appear to have been minor, improvised additions during a performance. Jenkins notes: [Playhouse interpolations] never add to the meaning or introduce any significant word that the surrounding context does not provide. Many of them will no doubt seem harmless: perhaps we need not grieve if some continue to perform. A producer will cause slight damage to the piece if he allows the gravedigger to make an additional reference to the skull or Polonius to call for help three times instead of one. (quoted in Hibbard 113). As I said, I'm more interested in a public-centered study of these changes. While the causes of these "interpolations" are certainly worth investigating, I prefer to use this essay to discuss the broader implications of the textual differences. The opening line of Hamlet's first soliloquy is perhaps the best-known point of debate in Shakespearean publishing circles: "O that this flesh also (solid/defiled/salty) would melt,/thaw, and dissolve in dew” (I.ii.129-130)3. Q2 uses "sallied", while the F edition uses "solid". Modern editions, as might be expected, have been quite divided on the issue. The Arden edition chose to use “soiled,” while the New Cambridge and Norton editors opted for “solid.” “Solid” logically corresponds to “would melt,” and at first glance it seems like the better word choice. Tennyson suggested this choice in a letter to FJ Furnivall in 1883: "'Solid flesh' is only 'that weary weight of flesh, if I were rid of it!' "" (quoted in Ware 490) – indeed, "solid" gives the impression of mortality trapped in an inescapable body, of a spirit dying to escape its imprisoning flesh. In The Absent Shakespeare, Mark Jay Mirsky agrees, saying that Shakespeare here introduces the theme of the variability of matter in different states – particularly water – to which he will return throughout the play: ...the ghost, which is in fact thawed flesh, melted, resolved into mist, "in dew" (that is to say, moreparticularly, non-“object”). Hamlet will become half ghost to himself. Later, Ophelia, by drowning and mixing with the water, will “thaw” from her frozen virginity to non-existence. To thaw is to die, a metaphor for suicide, but suicide as an escape from the solid and threatening reality of the world. (71) "Sallied" is also a possible choice, if read as a derivative of "sally": to rush, as if attacking.4 Therefore, if Hamlet's flesh is "out", he can feel as if even his body is attacking him, not to mention “all the uses of this world” (I.ii.134). However, there are probably better arguments to support the claim that Shakespeare did indeed intend to describe Hamlet's flesh as "defiled." J. Dover Wilson changed "sallied" to "sallied" based on a probable a:u compositional error. As he and Harold Jenkins have both argued, the use of the term "tainted" adds to the "suggestion of contamination" (Jenkins 437), which Hamlet lingers throughout the soliloquy and the play. This, of course, directly emphasizes the incestuous marriage between Claudius and Gertrude and suggests that Hamlet's flesh is also "defiled" by this hasty marriage. “Solid flesh,” Professor Wilson dared to think, “was a bit ridiculous” (quoted in Weiss 219).5 It seems that the choice of usage in a production comes down to a concept. If a director wants to emphasize the family aspect of the play, “soiled” might be a better choice. If the play is to be staged as a psychodrama, with the stereotype of the “brooding Prince,” then the director should choose “solid.” Some critics might argue that this is not a problem: the phonetic similarity of the two words might go over an audience member's head. However, I would argue that the choice of words in this case serves to color the rest of the monologue and even the rest of the performance. Regarding an actor's character motivation, James Shapiro states that the use of the word "solid" replaces "Hamlet's initial feeling of being attacked or assaulted... [with] an anguished desire for nothingness which has less to do with that of his mother. behavior than through one’s own inaction” (342). This is a fundamental character choice that the actor playing Hamlet must grapple with, and given that the word in question is among the first the Prince utters in solitude, I don't think the question is too minor to discuss. one of Hamlet's most famous sentences: “What a work a man! » (II.ii.293-300) The speech is commonly cited as an exaltation of man's unique abilities; however, it also reveals Hamlet's deep depression and lack of confidence in his ability to act as a man "should". Q2 and F offer different choices of reading and interpretation. They are more or less similar in the choice and arrangement of words: the difference comes from the punctuation. Seen one after the other, the differences and their implications are easily seen: Q2: What work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and movement, how expressive and admirable in action, how apprehensively like an Angell, as he is like a God: the beauty of the world; the Animals model; and yet for me, what is this Quintessence of dust: I don't like men, nor women either, although you seem to say so from your smiles. F: What work a man does! how noble in reason? how infinite is the faculty? in shape and in mouing, how express and admirable? in action, how does he look like an angel? in apprehension, how is he like a God? the beauty of the world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet for me, what isthis Quintessence of Dust? I don't like the man; no, nor the Woman either; although by your smile you seem to say it.J. Dover Wilson argued for the second quarter reading, dismissing the Folio as "a rhetorical distortion on the part of the actors" (Battenhouse 1078). Theodore Spencer also supported Q2 punctuation: "[it] alone makes sense in terms of Elizabethan psychology..." ...admirable in action; like an angel in apprehension; how like a god!' (quoted in Muir 51n1) This would have resonated with a Renaissance/early modern audience who were caught between joy at man's progress and distress at the uncertainties that accompanied that progress newly acquired. On the other hand, the series of questions asked in F is of some interest to interpreters. They express a much heavier doubt about man's true abilities. Marvin Rosenberg quotes Nietzsche who saw in this "increasing skepticism about received truth... a desperate perception... that human action cannot affect the eternal nature of things, that man can see 'everywhere only terror and the absurdity of existence. » (415-416). This nihilistic reading was echoed in Yuri Lyubimov's performance, which used "an empty stage, an open grave, and a disembodied voice over the speakers" (Smith 17). It is possible, of course, that the question marks are not marks of self-doubt, but rather Shakespeare's note to the actor for playing Hamlet as a thinking hero. Looking at the speech in context, it seems that reading F might be more dramatically viable. It would be a moving moment in which Hamlet said, “What a work of man! How noble is his reason, how infinite are his faculties” is a description of what he could have been if “this beautiful body” had had no murderous uncles, no frail women, no ghosts ordering him to take revenge. However, the choice again brings us back to context and concept: if a production's Hamlet is a skeptical and brooding "thinker", reading F would be a stronger choice. If, however, we view Hamlet as a man biding his time until the perfect moment to strike arrives, then a Q2 interpretation would be suitable. I noted earlier the potentially drastic character choices that could be made from an editor's (or director's) choice between "solid" and "tainted." In the third act, we will again see that One or two seemingly small changes have the power to impact our interpretation of the Prince. In the third scene, Hamlet comes across Claudius praying and he ponders the consequences of his father-in-law's murder. Norton follows F: “Now I can do it, now I pray” (III.iii.73, emphasis mine. Q2, however, changes the wording and punctuation slightly: “Now I could do it). but now it is a prayer” (italics mine). The minor differences offer the possibility of a monumental shift in interpretation. Q2's version involves a hesitant Hamlet who is likely to take revenge at this point. at that time, but for some reason he can't. One might imagine a long pause between realizations: "Now I could do it... but now I pray", the subtext being: "I could kill him now, but I'd rather not - how can I justify not taking revenge right now, when I have every good reason to kill him now? — aha! He prays! I am saved! The placement of the comma is also an indicator: it implies a break in measure in which Hamlet immediately attempts to devise a way out of this situation. F's version of the texthowever seems to demonstrate a bloodthirsty Hamlet who is just as ready to take revenge, but will not do so because he prefers Claudius's soul to be "damned and black / How far it goes" (III.iii. 94-95). The key here is “tapping” (“properly”). Again, the punctuation is an indicator here: "do it, now he prays", shows a clear line of thought and determination to act, until he is stopped in his tracks by the realization that "he go to heaven.” The difference here is that Hamlet does not immediately try to find a way out of the situation; on the contrary, his “exit” is imposed on him. This, in turn, gives a less sympathetic view of Hamlet: if he kills Claudius now, he can both take revenge and gain the throne. However, he surpasses himself. Hamlet has clearly won the game of cat and mouse established in 1.2, but he asks for more than he needs or has any right to ask for. He aspires to play God by attempting to control the state of another's soul (which is clearly the state of God). case and not that of a young Danish prince.) Therefore, a less sympathetic spectator might well say that Hamlet deserves what he gets by choosing to wait for "a more horrible clue" (III.iii.88) . As Samuel Johnson said of the prince's decision: "That speech in which Hamlet, represented as a virtuous character, does not content himself with taking blood for blood, but invents the damnation of the man he wishes punish, is too horrible to read or read. be pronounced” (quoted in Hamletworks CN23506). (It could also be argued that stabbing a kneeling, unarmed man in the back would be an even more horrible act than waiting until he was sufficiently damned: but it might be a just punishment against a man who poisoned his sleeping brother. ) the most significant changes, both in terms of content and style, are those of Hamlet's final soliloquy in version 4.4: "How all occasions reveal themselves against me/And stimulate my secret vengeance! » (IV.iv.9.22-9.23) This monologue appeared in the second quarter but is absent from F. In modern editions it appears in the Norton, but was removed by the editors of the New Oxford, who argued that it was repetitive: “Hamlet returning to the same old ground of self-reproach” (Rosenbaum 50). GR Hibbard of Oxford also opposed its inclusion, saying that "the Prince has become unrealistic." A prisoner in custody and on his way to England, he clearly does not have the means he speaks of...[the soliloquy] is anticlimactic and disappointing” (109). Yet Hamlet's soliloquy at the end of the fourth act contains crucial insights into the character and reveals the progression of the cerebral journey he undertook at the beginning of the third act. As Alex Newell argues: "The speech is reminiscent of the soliloquy 'To be or not to be' in its reflection on thought, in its consideration of thought as a symptom of cowardice, and in the way in which the movement of thought throughout speech is accentuated. little by little, ratiocination makes one aware of Hamlet's mind at work” (134). Sure, it's repetitive in some ways, but Hamlet is nothing more than a thoughtful character who uses monologue to wrestle with his intellect and reason. Alex Newell states that the final speech is an integral part of Hamlet's structural design, in which Shakespeare, "with climactic emphasis...reestablish[es] the essential terms of Hamlet's preoccupation with revenge" (134). It is, as actor Derek Jacobi says, "a punctuation mark in Hamlet's journey" (Maher 110), and producing a Hamlet without it raises major red flags when it comes to resolutely establish the interpretation of the play by the actor and the director.Interestingly, two of the most famous Hamlets of the modern era, Edwin Booth and John Barrymore, omitted the soliloquy from their performances (Shattuck 243, Morrison 327). However, some other notable performances of the role demonstrate the necessity for the inclusion of the final monologue. Mary Z. Maher writes of John Gielgud's 1944 performance: ...his eyes and face shone with devotion, his voice vibrated with determination...the final couplet sounded: "From this moment on, / My Thoughts are bloody, or worthless!”... Via a process of self-communion, the actor “builds a nobler mansion for his self-accusation” and emerges more determined than he was. ...Now he saw an opportunity and seized it Hamlet's state of mind [is] "clear, noble and resolute" before he left for England, with a "clear understanding of his destiny. and his desires' (14, emphasis mine). "Being human to become something forbidden and despotic" Kingsley notes that "this glimpse of reality impelled him to become manly... Seeing destiny march before him, Hamlet makes the ultimate resolve... He. suddenly sees distances, perspectives on his own dilemma... He sees other men... It is here that Hamlet sees Fortinbras acting decisively where he himself did not, which leads him to understand himself in a completely new light. He uses his reason and intellect and challenges Claude. From the audience's perspective, if we lose this monologue, we haven't seen Hamlet assert a clear forward movement: "From now on / My thoughts be bloody, or worthless!" » We have therefore lost in him the sense of purpose and a linear dramatic action which would propel us into the final act. In other words, the part does not move. Therefore, a “To be or not to be” without a “How all occasions harm me” is a beginning without an end, an introduction without a resolution. This might satisfy "hamletologists" like Ernest Jones and TS Eliot, who tend to argue that Hamlet is an inactive and indecisive weakling. However, if we view Hamlet as a revenge play and the Prince as a man with a mission, his final act of revenge seems to come from almost nowhere without this monologue. For all the debate about its purpose and location, it seems to me that the dramatic power of this monologue is almost unmatched in the rest of the play. Ron Rosenbaum argues that "the soliloquies define Hamlet", noting Harold Bloom's "grandiose claim" which further strengthens the argument for inclusion: "...that it was in these soliloquies that Shakespeare " invented” a new type of consciousness in Western culture, a meditative and reflective self-awareness. Hamlet's reflections on questions of self-awareness sparked similar ideas among the play's early Renaissance audiences: "the monologue might be an example not of self-awareness but of something more complex: the self-conscious self-awareness, meta-self-awareness.” (all quotes are in Rosenbaum 50, italics in the original). In this light, the soliloquy could have as much influence in itself as in the text; this argument alone should (in my opinion) be enough to retain it in interpretation. The dramatic focus of the play also changes with the removal of the Fortinbras sequence in the fourth act. As Claris Glick argues, removing the international aspect of the play focuses the problem on Hamlet's personal troubles, rather than his place in the world: he is now "confined to a decadent court" (22).Again, this is an acceptable choice if we want to see the play solely as an examination of the human psyche through the Prince, rather than as a look at the machinations of the state and the politics of power. (I prefer to read the play as a combination of the two, but with emphasis on the latter.) The textual alteration also alters our view of Claudius' abilities as king. The exchange in Act Four shows Claudius as a leader who successfully negotiated peace with a nation that was intent on overtaking them. This power is a further indication of Claudius' ability to govern well; therefore, it becomes much more difficult to kill him openly (especially when the only "proof" of a crime is an encounter with a ghost.) In the passage, Shakespeare seems to make known his disdain for meaningless war in the name of national glory. Therefore, the contrast between the calm ruler Claudius and a Norwegian king who "goes to gain a small piece of land / who has no profit other than the name" (IV.iv.9.8-9.9) is emphasized. The retention of this scene also affects the reading of Hamlet's final words and, therefore, how the audience perceives the end of the play and Fortinbras's takeover of the Danish throne. The section in question reads: “But I prophesy election lights / On Fortinbras.” He has my dying voice” (V.ii.297-298). If we include Hamlet's earlier exchange with Norway, we are already aware of Hamlet's contempt for leaders such as Fortinbras who sacrifice "two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats" for the "straw" that is Poland (IV .iv.9.15-9.16). The tragedy of the State is therefore obvious. Hamlet can easily read these lines with a heavy air of resignation: it is better for someone to take control of Denmark, than to let the country dissolve into sectarian struggles for minor rulers over a tiny piece of land, even if neither option is ideal. From the tragedy of Hamlet as a state, Fortinbras' final entry also foreshadows the loss of Danish national identity: Denmark is just another piece of land annexed for the greater glory of Norway. (This would particularly resonate in productions staged in postcolonial countries still grappling with radically changed identities: Ireland and India particularly come to mind.) If, however, we do not include the stage of the fourth act, our interpretation of the play's ending does not resonate as strongly with deeper, more lasting implications. For us, Fortinbras is just one leader among others: he is neither better nor worse than Claude. We have no solid idea of ​​his foreign policy or his desire for profitless war, except for his mentions in 1.2 and 2.2. So the whole aspect of Fortinbras seems a bit disjointed: the problem seems to be resolved in act two, only to see him almost inexplicably return three acts later to take control. Laertes storms the castle at the end of act four, and he and Claudius receive news that Hamlet, Polonius's murderer, "is laid naked upon thy kingdom" (IV.vii.42-43). Here we see another point of contention among the editors of Hamlet. I mentioned earlier that Wilson's change from "sallied" to "tainted" was based on his belief in an a:u compositional error; This is another example of a change based on a supposed compositional error. As Bernice Kliman notes, Shakespeare used to write his lowercase e's with the loop reversed; this would be the origin of the many errors in reading the e:d in the printed texts of his plays (xvii). Nowhere in Hamlet is this moreapparent only in this scene: But let it come. It warms the very sickness in my heart that I will live and tell it to the teeth: "Thus have you done" (IV.vii.52-55, emphasis mine) As demonstrated above, the edition Norton chooses "diddest", adding a footnote explaining: "What I do to you now, you did to my father." "7 However, Wilson and Jenkins, among others, argue that "diddest" is a misreading, saying that Shakespeare intended to convey the more violent implications of "diest." The study and debate of Shakespeare's "intentions" is on a slippery slope, as I mentioned, however, "diest" also seems to have a dramatic meaning. “Diest” sets up a clear opposition between Laertes and Hamlet: in both versions, we see a violent entry of Laertes into the castle; However, "Diest" implies a clear desire to act and take revenge on the prince who wronged his family. “Diddest,” on the other hand, is a weaker moment, showing all of Laertes’ sense of rage, but none of it. the action. This brings him squarely closer to the much-accused “undecided and hesitant” Hamlet, who resolved to “drink hot blood / And do business as bitter as the day / Would tremble before his eyes” (III.ii.360-362), but he stopped only seventy lines later because Claudius was too “fit and seasoned for his passage” (III.iv.86). This comparison removes the immediacy of Laertes' entrance and therefore removes the power of the scene. In 4.7, Laertes swears “to cut his own throat in the Church” (IV.vii.99), “to show himself his father's son in deed/more than in words” (IV.vii.97). -98): exactly what Hamlet did not do. Without "thus you die" earlier in the scene, it seems like we don't really believe he'll go through with it. Finally, we must look at Hamlet's last breath. The Norton edition, in deference to F, marks Hamlet's final words as follows: "The rest is silence." / O, O, O, O! (V.ii.300-301) These “O-groans” – a phrase coined by the scholar Maurice Charney – are curious additions, to say the least. At first glance, they appear to be the product of an overzealous actor eager to squeeze every ounce of tragedy out of his performance. (The O's are a great example of Jenkins's "theater interpolations," which I mentioned earlier.) We have no record of Shakespeare himself writing the phrase; nor do we have any reflections from Richard Burbage, the first Hamlet, concerning Hamlet's last words. Ann Thompson doesn't rule out the possibility that Shakespeare added the O's to himself after seeing Burbage's Hamlet: "Perhaps one can imagine Shakespeare... having seen [Hamlet's swan song] performed... . and thinking 'Burbage made quite a good dying moan, I'll write that down to remind myself'" (Rosenbaum 77). It may seem like we are making a mountain out of this molehill of four simple letters, even though they are the last words of the most influential character in Western literature. . However, even though these O's read a bit superfluous on the page, we are ultimately concerned with the performance of Hamlet's last breath. There are a number of interpretive possibilities here, and I believe that this interpretation has the power to resonate with the audience long after the hall lights have gone up and they have left the theater. As Mirsky suggests, the O's "[emphasize] his agony, his attempt to cling to life, give a graphic impression of his death, not as careful as the Second Quarto, nor as ritualized" (97). Does the dying prince react to his first vision of the “unknown country from which is born/no traveler returns” (III.i.81-82)? Did he realize that he had been wrong all along and that Godwould not judge him kindly for his act of revenge? This concept is particularly supported by Hamlet's summary "Death / Is strict in his arrest – oh, I could tell you –" [V.ii.278-279], which seems to refer to a quick view of the beyond. These O's even function as a final monologue on their own, if played correctly: "they can be transmuted from hollow O's on the page into a tragic tune of sorrow, each O registering a deeper apprehension of death and terror” (Rosenbaum 38). ). (Marvin Rosenberg adds: “The Bones can be very eloquent. [Try them.]) Additionally, we can link Ophelia's memory of Hamlet's strange behavior in Version 2.1 as an omen of his final breath: " He heaved a sigh so pitiful and deep / that it seemed indeed to break his whole mass / And put an end to his being” (II.i.95-97). Alexander Leggatt argues that for Elizabethan audiences, Hamlet's sighs would have been seen as a method of suicide in itself: "to end one's life, to expel one's spirit." Suicide by sighs” (Rosenbaum 147). (Such a hypothesis raises another argument: that of Hamlet's suicidal tendencies. The subject of the Prince's depression has generated countless pages of speculation and debate, which I do not wish to address here. I prefer to concentrate on the ramifications of adding the "O-groans" from Shakespeare himself.) Or should we ultimately agree with Arden's edition and remove the O's from the performance? John Russell Brown notes that the O's are meaningless in light of Horatio's next line: "Now a noble heart cracks" (V.ii.302, Brown "Connotations" 280-281). For Shakespeare and his contemporaries, a broken heart equated to a silent death, and in other works of Shakespeare, broken-hearted deaths are not accompanied by any O, for example, “Great is my heart; but we must break with silence” (Richard II, II.i.228); “The sorrow that speaks not / Whispers the overburdened heart and bids it break” (Macbeth, IV.iii.209-10); “But break my heart for I must hold my tongue” (Hamlet, I.ii.159); “..this heart / Must break into a hundred thousand faults / Or before we cry” (King Lear, II.iv.283-85). There is indeed a certain finality in Hamlet's last sentence: "The rest is silence." " This could ultimately portray Hamlet as a hero: one could imagine him dying silently with a half-smile on his face, secure in the knowledge that he defended the family name by heeding the ghost and avenging the death of the King Hamlet. The final decision, I believe, comes with the director's conception of the play. If Hamlet were to die a hero, having completed the task given to him by the Ghost (and thus earning his place in Heaven), then the Os would have to be removed. If, however, we choose to see the Prince as a morose Prince who reluctantly avenges his father's death, only to die with the horrifying realization that he was wrong all along, then the use of O's might respond appropriately to this concept (ie: if handled well by a strong actor: poorly handled O-moans could easily become melodramatic and silly.) Keep in mind: this is just a sample. Get a personalized article from our expert writers now. Get a Custom Essay In this essay so far, I have intentionally focused on the differences between the Q2 and F editions of Hamlet; after all, most "major" editions of the play attempt to compromise between these two editions to varying degrees. Most editors of these texts chose to base their editions on Q2 or F, or merged these two longer texts to produce the text "the » 792).