Guys, I want a Shakespearean death scene. In all likelihood, I’m going to die as I lived—in bed, watching Netflix, pantsless and covered in Dorito crumbs as my icy black wraith-heart finally gives out—and I’ve come to terms with that. But in the lyrical netherworld of wordplay, foreshadowing, and comeuppance that is Shakespeare, you’re never more than one pun away from being hanged, or beheaded, or baked into a pie and served to your mother. How hardcore is that?
I can’t be alone in this. So which Shakespeare fate would be yours? How would you shuffle off this mortal coil? Let’s find out together! (I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do with this information, though. Just have it, I guess.)