Now cracks a noble mind

As I was stumbling into bed a minute ago, far too late for the alarm clock I just set, I began mumbling in exhausted delirium. "Goodnight, sweet prince," I slurred to... myself, I suppose, "and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. The rest," I continued, "is silence." I was immediately struck by three things, none of which (fortunately) were corporeal:

1) That I had just recited the lines out of order, and would probably be consigned to an extra decade in purgatory for my offense against the Bard.

2) That it's funny how both Hamlet and Horatio use the word "rest" two different ways in their abutting lines-- could it have been wordplay?

3) And lastly: what if it was a stage direction? I mean, it's one of the most famous lines in Shakespeare, if not the English canon, but what if "the rest is silence" is not what the actor playing Hamlet is actually supposed to say, but it just means that he's supposed to shut the hell up after prophesying the election lighting on Fortinbras? If certain scholars are to be believed, our written corpus of Shakespeare's work came from the frantic scribblings of audience-based scribes, probably looking to sell pirated copies of the latest blockbuster. So what if Jack Half-Flagon was scratching out the final iambs and forgot to put parentheses around the part where Hamlet starts mumbling incoherently before shuffling off his mortal coil? Over the next couple centuries, that smidge of non-dialogue gets enshrined as one of Will Shakespeare's most profound sentiments. It could all be a lie! I can see, even now, the topless towers of Academe crumbling to dust around my feet, and prophesy the destruction lights on English Departments. So tell them, with the occurrents, more and less, which have solicited. The rest is silence.