English poem
Enter Shade of Laertes
by Tom Hall
Shade of Laertes: What's the matter with Hamlet?
S. of H.: He's not all right. No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong. A certain convocation of talented amateurs Are e'en at him. Your amateur is your only emperor for talent; There's not a genius in the universe Who will essay as much.
S. of L.: Or, who will imitate nature so abominably. Your head is level, Ham., and I—even I, Laertes, suffered at the hands of one Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe That some of nature's journeymen had made a man, And not made him well, he imitated nature So abominably.
S. of H.: Ha' the fair Ophelia!