it’s funny that hamlet says ‘the rest is silence’ and then horatio says ‘flights of angels sing thee to thy rest’

it’s like hamlet has thought about death so long and so hard that he’s stripped all its imagery, all its mystique. there’s nothing romantic or tragic or good or bad about dying. it just is. it’s happening to him, and he’s a little relieved and a little regretful, but it is what it is, it’s silence, and if it’s no more than that than at least it’s no less. he’s dying, and that’s all there is to say. for once, he has nothing more to say

horatio can’t have the same almost nihilistic view of death. as hamlet dies he seems to rise above it all, it doesn’t matter any more. horatio doesn’t get this luxury. he can’t look down at death and say that it just is, that it’s just silence. for hamlet, death is just darkness and silence, it’s just cessation. for horatio, death is his best friend, his love, his whole world, coughing and shuddering in his arms and then going still, going silent, going cold. while hamlet is the neutrality of knowing acceptance, horatio is pain and passion and grief and love, and he can’t just let it be silent, neutral. he needs to make it beautiful and poignant, meaningful and holy. he doesn’t need silence. he needs the bells of heaven to ring