To be. or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
Anci by opposing end them. To die: to sleep:
No more: and by a sleep to say we end
The pangs of despised love. the law's delay.
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes.
When he himself might
his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
who would fardels bear.
To grunt and sweat under a weary life.
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?
Thus conscience does
make cowards of us all;
And thus the native
hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.
And enterprises of
great pith and moment
With this regarq
their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of
action.
Shakespeare.
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