Ghost's revelations from their knowledge. In order that nothing may interfere with his revenge, Hamlet swears them on his sword-hilt to secrecy. Then an idea strikes him, and he acts upon it suddenly—why not feign madness as a cloak for vengeance? And once more he pledges the others not to betray him, should he think it wise "to put an antic disposition on."
The scenes at the beginning of Act II show that Hamlet is pursuing this policy. Even before his entrance upon the stage, it appears from the remarks of the king and Polonius that his behavior is giving them the most serious concern. When Hamlet himself appears, he is alternately violent and rational, obviously taking a bitter joy in bewildering the duller wits about him, and sailing as close to the wind as he may without self-betrayal. As yet he has done little or nothing to further his revenge, beyond assuming the mask of madness; and the soliloquy at the end of Act II shows him assailed with doubts of the genuineness of the spectral revelations on the battlementsthe Ghost may have been the Devil, assuming his father's likeness to ensnare him to murder, and so gain his soul.
With the introduction of the strolling players, a little earlier than this soliloquy, we have been prepared for a new development in the plot. Hamlet straightway calls for an exhibition of their professional skill, and chooses a speech relating the murder of a king and the grief of his queen. He is obviously very familiar with the art and the repertory of these actors. At the end of the tale of Priam and Hecuba, the actor is himself greatly moved by the pathos of the lines. "Look," says Polonius, "whether he has not turned his colour and has tears in's eyes. Prithee, no more." This gives Hamlet the hint of a scheme for testing his uncle's guilt, and again he acts promptly, detaining the First Player as the rest leave the stage, and inquiring if they can play the 'Murder of Gonzago.' "You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert in't, could you not?" The First Player assents, and Hamlet, left alone, breaks out into the soliloquy just referred to—bitter reproaches at his own inactivity. At the end of the soliloquy he collects himself, and once more returns to his plan for producing the 'Murder of Gonzago.'
I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks;
