I think I’d like to go full of bread. In my final hours, I’d have been able to eat warm loaves, fresh from the oven, spread with butter, some with jam or honey too.
There’s something comforting about the idea of going with a belly full of bread. It suggests that even if something awful happened afterwards, there was sure tasty warm comfort before.
I’m not sure quite why it’s a problem that Hamlet senior went while full of bread but I suspect it’s a religious issue.
I’m guessing that the really penitent way to go would be to do some fasting and confessing. Luckily, through, I am not religious and have nary a religious bone in my body – unless freshly baked bread could be my religion and being full of it is the most devout expression of good doughy goodness.