A LONGTIME reader sends an alternative scenario to the tragic life of Shakespeare’s Prince Hamlet. He wonders whether things would have worked out better if Hamlet had had a good therapist.  I’m not convinced, but it’s something for you to consider very seriously.

Cast: King Claudius, Queen Gertrude, Therapist, Hamlet (dual role with King)

Setting: Therapist’s office, three chairs, table. Therapist seated. Enter King Claudius and Queen Gertrude.

Therapist: The patient’s name?

Queen: Hamlet.

T: Please spell that.

Q: H-a-m-l-e-t.

T: First name?

Q: Prince.

T: Biological male?

Q: Oh, yes.

T: Health care provider?

Q: Denmark health-care system.

T: Hmmm. Not on our list. No problem, our special today is the 100 percent co-pay, at just $200 for 45 minutes. Your relationship to the patient?

Q: Mother.

T: Biological?

Q: Yes.

T: Occupation?

Q: Queen.

T: The problem?

Q: It’s complicated.

T: Good. Tell me more.

Q: It’s not easy to put into words. (Sobbing.) I tried to talk to him the other day, but I had to tell him to stop. (Breaks into loud sobs.) “O Hamlet,” I said. “Speak no more!”

“Thou turn’st my very eyes into my soul,
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct
… O speak to me no more;
these words like daggers enter my ears:
No more, sweet Hamlet!” (More sobbing.)

T: I see. What I’m hearing is that you both have communication issues.

King: But we think he’s faking.

T: Biological father?

K: Ah, no.

T: Occupation?

K: King.

T: Do you have satisfactory communications with your son?

Q: He’s the stepfather.

T: Does your son still have contact with the biological father?

Q: He’s deceased.

T: Oh, I’m so sorry.

Q: I’m not … I mean, yes, so am I.

T: (to King) It’s natural that your stepson should be standoffish in a grieving situation. These relationships take time. After all, to the boy, you may still be a stranger. Tell me about your first meeting with this Hamlet?

K: (looking to the Queen): It was some time ago.

T: Tell me about the details, please.

K: The boy cried a lot.

T: (writing excitedly) Tell me more.

Q: It was the day Hamlet was born.

T: Excuse me?

Q: Hamlet is his nephew.

T: So, wait, you two are brother and sister?

K: Oh, no. Hamlet’s father is, or was, my brother.

T: How did your brother die?

Q: (looking at King) That’s just it. Our son has this crazy idea that his stepfather killed him.

T: I see. Please, we prefer not to use the word “crazy” in this office. What makes him think that?

Q: His father’s ghost told him.

T: I see. Let me ask you, is your son sexually normative?

Q: (looking at King) He’s not a Norman, he’s a Dane.

T: I mean, does he have significant, consistent contact with a peer?

(Q looks at K quizzically)

T: Does he have a girlfriend?

Q: Oh yes, but the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

T: Is she a stable person? Do you know anything about her background, do you know anything about her parents?

K: (looking at Queen) Yes. We know the father, or at least we did know him.

T: Good, perhaps we could involve him in a session.

Q: Well, I’m afraid not … You see, he had a little accident.

T: An accident? What happened?

Q: Well, actually, Hamlet killed him.

T: What?

Q: Well, he thought he was killing my husband.

T: I think, I’ve heard enough, send in the patient.

(Exit King and Queen. Enter Hamlet.)

(Hamlet paces and stares at the Therapist.)

T: Tell me about your issues, Prince. We need to have an open relationship.

Hamlet:  To be, or not to be, that is the question.

T: Is it?

Hamlet:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to —

T: These slings and arrows, I think ….

Hamlet:

‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d!

T: I’m not sure it is.

Hamlet:

To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely —

T: I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I think this patient doth merit medication. May I? (He writes out two prescriptions.)

(Hamlet returns in two weeks. He is a new man.)

T: Are you still sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought?

Hamlet: Oh, no, not at all.

T: And your stepfather?

Hamlet: Great guy. We’re finally getting to know each other.

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