Shakespeare, Hamlet and Something Like a Prosthetic Limb!

Shakespeare, Hamlet and a Prosthetic Limb!

This is a sketch that Shakespeare might have written if he had thought of it first but he didn’t. So, I’ve taken the liberty. I wrote this a long time ago for my sister-in-law’s twenty-fifth Wedding Anniversary and it was performed by my Husband and another one of my many brothers’-in-law at a party. Jenny, the sister-in-law in question worked in a centre which supplied prosthetic limbs.

Hamlet coming suddenly on Ophelia at her prayers

Hamlet: (Looking down at his nether regions)
But soft no more, ‘tis the fair Ophelia!
Nymph in thy orisons, be all my sins remembered?

Ophelia: (Looking at his nether regions also)
Ah, good My Lord, long hast it been since
I have seen thee thus so proud.
I thought thee forever afflicted with the droop.
Hast thou been to Friar Lawrence for a potion?
Or to the apothecary, for a lotion?

She stands up

Hamlet:
Nay, nay, my fine and fair Ophelia,
I’ve been to Friar Walsam, for a balsam.

Ophelia:
Oh, good My Lord, didst it cause you
pain to rub it in?

Hamlet:
In truth, Ophelia, the tears didst prick my eyes,
But oh, the trick, to see the wick arise
And catch me quick and completely by surprise.

Ophelia:
Oh, my sweet prince, glad should you be to have it, twere it half that size!

(OPHELIA POINTS TO JENNY SITTING AT FRONT)

But see, good Lord, we have a traveller from time.
She’s come to thee, Prince Hamlet, to measure thee in thy prime.

Hamlet:
For shame, Ophelia, I cannot share it thus.
Why, ‘tis let loose but recent, from the truss.

Ophelia:
Oh, sweet prince, just one quick feel, not rough.

Hamlet:
Nay, nay, fair lady, just one, to such a one,
Is ne’er enough!

Ophelia:
If thou didst love me, my Lord Hamlet,
Thou would’st give her one quick feel!
For alack and alas, tomorrow, she’s back at
Horndon-on-the-Hill.

Hamlet:
Forsooth, Ophelia, is this the woman I have heard about?
Jennifer from the limb centre, they say casts a clout?

Ophelia:
Prithee, my Lord, she is the very same.

Hamlet:
Then out of my way, I’ve heard she’s more than game!

Ophelia:
Sire, step not one step, or, by the Lord Harry,
‘tis you I’ll fight!

Hamlet:
Zounds, oft’ have I thought twere you,
had a little touch of Harry in the night.
(pause)
Calm, calm ye now, my lady, Ophelia.
Is this not the woman to do me great service
without which, I am bereft, bereft and undone?
You know what I mean, she could get me a better one!

Ophelia:
Oh Sire, My Lord, my love, if only she could.
But, pray tell me, how would we manage?
She says they’re made of wood!

Hamlet:
Yes, yes, Ophelia, ‘tis pity enough to cut down
a great oak.

Ophelia:
Oh, come now, Sire, surely, you joke!
A great oak is verily too high a price,
When the mere’st splinter will more than suffice!
(pause)
Anyways, ‘tis no matter, My Lord Hamlet,
She says, she will not furnish new equipment
Unless she, herself, gets a share in your improvement.

Hamlet:
Of what is this she speaks, my fair Ophelia?

Ophelia:
Her demand, sweet prince, is that you must give her one
If not, My Lord, we will ourselves be both undone!

Hamlet:
Ophelia, prithee explain, for I am confused.

Ophelia:
Oh, for goodness sake try to keep up, Sire,
Methinks she’s here to improve your desire.

Hamlet:
Desire for what, my fair Ophelia?

Ophelia:
Zounds, if memory has fled there is not much chance
Or, indeed, much point in improving your droopy lance.

Hamlet:
Help me, fair Ophelia, for I wish to understand.

Ophelia: (Patiently)
Put another way, my dearest, my dove
You must pretend to offer her your love!

(HAMLET FALLS ON HIS KNEES IN FRONT OF JENNY)

Hamlet:
Oh, excellent wretch, perdition catch my soul
but I do love thee, and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again!

(HAMLET RISES AND KISSES JENNY’S HAND)

Hamlet:
Pray, excuse me, my Lady Jennifer, for ‘pon my soul
I have partaken too much mead.

(HAMLET CROSSES LEGS AND LOOKS DESPERATE)

And now to passeth wee wee is my most urgent
And pressing need!

Ophelia:
Good My Lord, leave us now and you miss your chance.
Is this not what we planned for?
To renew your ailing lance?

Hamlet:
‘Pon my soul, now I am in most dreadful turmoil,
For I must decide…
(pause)
To pee, or, not to pee? That is the question!

END