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.