Shakespearean Death Match

In the tradition of celebritydeathmatch.com (or whatever it's site is called), I'm stewing on who would kicks whose ass in a death match. Here are my speculations:

King Lear vs Hamlet: Lear has it here, no contest. Hamlet would dilly-dally, wondering whether or not to take action against a sea of troubles, before entering the ring, and then he would be no contest for the dragon and his wrath. With a flight of rage, Lear would thrash Hamlet across the stage and stomp repeatedly on the young Dane's head until his incredible consciousness oozed out onto the boards like chocolate syrup. And, knowing Lear, he'd carry the body off stage afterwards, howling in victory.

Macbeth vs Othello: This is a tricky one: each is a skilled warrior, each relatively intelligent and agile. Each would need some persuading to get into the ring. But I suspect Macbeth has the edge here. After much scoping out of one another, Macbeth would summon up the will, and do the deed. Macbeth would discover that Othello has more blood in him than he expected.

Lady Macbeth vs Cleopatra: No doubt here: Lady M does the deed quickly, despite Cleopatra's attempt to run away from the fight at the last minute. In dying, Cleopatra makes a spectacle of herself, leaving Lady M desperately trying to get all the blood off her hands.

Prospero vs Henry V: This is a toughie. Henry's fire and alertness would make him a challenging foe, and if it came to muscles, it'd be once more into the old man. But Prospero's magic wins it here: he simply casts a spell that rounds his opponent in a sleep, and then proceeds to kill the young man precisely and artfully. Or, he'd cast a spell that would make Henry think there was no death match, and he walk away as the audience wonders what the hell is going on.

Richard III vs Richard II: Number III kills Dickie the Deuce and his entire entourage, picking them off one by one and with great dispatch. Richard III would probably even get creative about the process.

Titus vs King John: Titus in a second. But then in a wonderful series of exchanges, the Bastard Falcounbridge would rise to the stage and kick some Roman ass for a bit before Titus cuts him up too, and then bakes them both in pies.

Falstaff vs Brutus: Brutus would eventually find a way to legitimate the contest, and convince Falstaff that nothing was wrong before stabbing him in his over-bloated belly. That is, of course, if Falstaff brought himself to the death-match; he'd likely be passed out somewhere and miss the whole thing, leaving Brutus to win by default.

Romeo vs Juliet: Juliet wins this one for two reasons: one, she's smarter than he is (by a country mile); and two, she'd realize eventually that a man is just another guy and he is ultimately dispensable. Romeo, on the other hand, would fall for her obvious guiles, and then find his attention diverted to other young females in the audience, allowing Juliet to make into a meat-pie (assumedly made with a lark and a nightingale in the dark).

Shylock vs Coriolanus: Ah, Coriolanus would seem to have the edge here, but I'd give it to Shylock because Coriolanus would end up with mother-imposed stage nerves, and turn into an ineffectual wallow. Shylock would play this to his advantage, and out-think, out-maneuver and out-creep our Roman momma's boy.

The Closing Battle Royal of the Survivors: Lear's anger is immense: he throws Juliet across the stage like a wet rag, smashes Titus' head to the ground, proves to Richard III that his canny guile is useless to him and pounds him into the dirt. He dispatches Shylock soon after, then offers Brutus a not-so Roman death. His biggest foes are the Macbeths, who try to tag team him, but to no avail: he smashes their heads together in an astounding assertion of age before youth. He then looks at Prospero, getting very, very weak, and slumps to the ground, convinced Prospero is actually Cordelia, and dies of a heart attack. Prospero stands alone on the blood-littered stage, and then assures us that everything will be alright in an enchanting epilogue that makes the audience think it had watched a comedy. He throws his books among the blood, and leaves the stage, victor again.

The audience then exits, in a death march, moaning about going out into the wind and the rain....