To be or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in mind suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or take arms against a sea troubles And by opposing end them? die: sleep No more sleep say we heart-ache thousand natural shocks That flesh heir to consummation Devoutly be wish’d. die sleep: perchance dream: ay there’s rub For death what dreams may come When have shuffled off this mortal coil Must give us pause: respect makes calamity so long life who would bear whips scorns time oppressor’s wrong proud man’s contumely pangs despised love law’s delay insolence office spurns patient merit unworthy takes he himself might his quietus make With bare bodkin? fardels bear grunt sweat under weary life But dread something after death undiscover’d country from whose bourn traveller returns puzzles will rather those ills Than fly others know of? Thus conscience does cowards all thus native hue resolution Is sicklied o’er with pale cast thought enterprises great pith moment regard their currents turn awry lose name action.–Soft you now! fair Ophelia! Nymph thy orisons Be all my sins remember’d.