Claudius Monologue

The strong droplets of water ricocheted off Claudius’ nose. He had been waiting for too long; he was losing what remained of his limited patience. The water caught the soft wind-chilled air, which had the power to raise the hair on Claudius’ fragile forearms. A figure emerged from the corner of the lengthy brick wall that Claudius had been studying for the past half hour and advanced in his direction. A hood draped over the hunched figure; protecting him from the dark drops of deluge. With a swift motion, the man unwrapped the side of is velvet cloak and cleared his throat, revealing a small vial of green liquid. Claudius exchanged a heavy thread pouch for the vial and pocketed the odourless toxin. Without saying a word, the hooded man crept

If his brother were to wake, he would have no justification for being inside the secret orchard. His mind was still stricken with guilt. Questions plagued his thoughts and he had not the answers. It is his brother, after all, his blood and kin. Although his early life was difficult, constantly battling with Hamlet, his thirst for revenge seemed ill-reasoned. From a young age, Claudius dreamed of being king and he was looking hopeful until Hamlet stole the throne from beneath him. This betrayal manifested inside Claudius and he was determined to reap his revenge, even if he never envisaged going to Hell, it was in the grasps of possibility. He felt like this was the only way to prove himself superior. Killing the King in his slumber, even if it meant everlasting

He lifted the cork stopper silently and stared deeply into the shallow vial. With one drop of this poison, he could become king, and claim revenge. His hand raised above the sleeping body and began to slowly tilt until liquid nearly drifted out of the bottle’s neck. The instant before the liquid was to ooze out, he stopped. Claudius could not kill his brother. He could not suffer an eternity in Hell. Even if it meant becoming king and marrying Gertrude, he could not do it. Once again, he was a failure. The room felt silent. The level of noise hadn’t changed, but the atmosphere unquestionably had. Claudius brought himself to sluggishly place the cork atop the vial once more. Before he was able to do so; a rat ran past a frail table leg. Silver tankards and plates were knocked off. This generated such a staggering noise, Claudius froze. He lost his grip on the poison. It fell from his hand pouring into the Kings ear. Much more than was necessary to eradicate even the largest of