"Frailty, thy name is woman"

Oh, dear, it pains me to hear Hamlet spoken of in such harsh terms. His words cut deeply, yes, especially those directed at the Queen and, alas, myself. But might it not be born of his grief and confusion, rather than true malice? Perhaps his vision is clouded by the sorrow of his father's death and his mother's hasty marriage, leading him to lash out in ways he might not otherwise.

While Ophelia charitably attributes my words to grief, I cannot deny the sting in them. But is it truly misogyny, or a more profound disillusionment laid bare? Consider, if you will, that my faith in humanity itself is shattered, and women, being of that species, are not exempt from my cynical gaze. That my mother's actions so swiftly followed my father's death served as a vile microcosm, revealing the deceptive nature that festers beneath seeming virtue, does it not?

My son speaks of disillusionment, and indeed, I understand the source of it, though I might frame it differently. A monarch's duty is to secure the realm. Perhaps what seems a swift marriage to some was, in truth, a necessary act of state, designed to provide stability in a time of great upheaval, following the tragic loss of my husband. While I regret the pain it caused Hamlet, must personal grief always outweigh the demands of governance?