Babel bashing

Alta Vista's translation service is a brilliant free service for the web but it is not without its faults. When including a link to the feature from the web sites I build for my clients I've often wondered what, for instance, a Portugese visitor might be seeing. So I tried it for myself. And because I can't speak Portugese I used the service to translate it back - with some hilarious results. It got me thinking... what if Shakespeare had been Portugese.... and his translator Greek. Perhaps Hamlet's most famous speech might have looked like this:

Enter SmallBacon:

You be or not you be: that one is the question:
Tis of the sheep castrated more splendid in the understanding, in order to suffer
to the belts and to the arrows from the outrageous rich,
or to check of the levers of the arms for meeting a sea of the problems,
and, is impudent and opposed, in order to terminate it. It dies, sleeps -
more terminates, and thus a sleep to vouch for
heartache stop and the thousand natural impacts
that the meat is inheriting
Die, sleep. Sleep, by chance for dreaming. Hey, here is a Chinese burn,
stops in this sleep of the death that dreams can come
when we waltz over the edge of this mortal bobbin
if we give them the break. It has respectively act, which for
state of emergency therefore are enough for life span,
for who would load the whips and scorns of the time,
The error of Th'oppressor, proud man contumely,
pangs of disprized the love, the delay of the law,
insolence of the office, and spurns
this patient distinction of taking th'unworthy,
when he himself could its quietous make with
one bodkin uncovered? Who these fardels load,
to make pig noise and to sweat under a tired life,
but that one dread of something after the death,
the country not yet explored whose it Bourn
no traveller returns, enigmas the will,
and in they make them to rather to load those problems we stops having
of whom it stops flying to others where we know not?
Thus conscience makes cobardes of us all,
and thus indiginous skin colour of the definition
is sick over the pale mold of the thought,
and the companies of pith great of the moment
with this consideration that its currents turn awry,
and loses the name of the action. Soft you, now,
the Ophelia just! - the nymph in orisons thy
either all mine sins remembered.