HAMLET What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave.)
LAERTES The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him.)
HAMLET Thou pray’st not well.
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand….
Why I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
QUEEN GERTRUDE O my son, what theme?
HAMLET I loved [insert name of recently deceased celebrity here]: forty thousand [fans]
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for [him or her]?
KING CLAUDIUS O, he is mad, Laertes.
QUEEN GERTRUDE For love of God, forbear him.
HAMLET ‘Swounds, show me what thou’lt do:
Woo’t weep? woo’t fight? woo’t fast? woo’t tear thyself?
Woo’t drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I’ll do’t. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in [his or her] grave?
Be buried quick with [him or her], and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou’lt mouth,
I’ll rant as well as thou.