Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service; two dishes, but to one table: that’s the end.
The king sends Hamlet off to England. Which doesn’t seem like it’s going to end well. Meanwhile, here comes Laertes busting into the joint flipping his lid over the death of his father, Polonius. A death that has apparently caused his sister, Ophelia, to go off the rails. After he calms down a bit and the king receives a letter stating that Hamlet is returning the two plot the demise of the prince. But not before one final injury added to insult and injury - the revelation that Ophelia has drowned herself, apparently singing merrily all the while.