Is the beaker somewhere where the public can view it?

Thank you.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

GA, another great piece. So appropriate as we approach the 400th anniversary of the Bard’s death. Let’s hear it for those wise enough to have preserved his words for posterity.

Continuing the poet’s ruminations on death in the same speech in Hamlet –

“But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?”

Still something to think about, eh?