HAMLET
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Friday, June 13, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment