HAMLET         ’Swounds, show me what thou’lt do.

Woul’t weep, woul’t fight, woul’t fast, woul’t tear thyself,

Woul’t drink up eisel, eat a crocodile?

I’ll do’t. Dost come here to whine,

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with 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.         (5.1.263-273)

Hamlet is behaving so badly, goading Laertes and ignoring everyone else; it’s not about Ophelia really, it’s about enormous feelings finding somewhere, anywhere to go, no matter how appallingly inappropriate. ’Swounds, show me what thou’lt do. Go on then, show me! Woul’t weep, woul’t fight, woul’t fast (those are all straightforward at least?) woul’t tear thyself, rip your clothes, and your flesh, with your bare hands? OK, I guess? Then it gets more extreme, dare you, dare you, knowingly ridiculous, woul’t drink up eisel—down a bitter potion—eat a crocodile?? Teeters on the edge of absurdity, it sounds like the beginning of a joke, how do you eat a crocodile? (Yes crocodiles cry fake tears; yes they would be very difficult to eat. Never smile at a crocodile.) Yeah, well, anything you can do, I can do better. I’ll do’t, all those things and more besides. Dost come here to whine (that’s really cruel), to outface me with leaping in her grave?That’s just showing off, pathetic one-upmanship. Two can play at that game, easy; be buried quick with her, and so will I. If you want to be buried alive with your sister, well, there’s room enough for the both of us. Bring it on. And if thou prate of mountains—he’s mocking Laertes’s hubristic invocation of Pelion and Olympus—let them throw millions of acres on us till our ground, singeing his pate against the burning zone, make Ossa like a wart. They can bury us so deep in this grave and pile the earth so high that it reaches the damn sun! Nay, an’t thou mouth—I’m sorry, did you have something to say?—I’ll rant as well as thou. Yell all you like, I’ll shout louder. Hamlet really is insufferable, and yes, he is completely out of control…