Original Text: To be, or non to be: that is the gesture: Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of dreadful fortune, Or to hold up arms against a ocean of troubles, And by opposing closing them? To die: to quietus; No much; and by a snooze to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand inseparable shocks That physical body is heir to, tis a consummation Devoutly to be wishd. To die, to catch some Zs; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, theres the rub; For in that sleep of oddment what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this deadly coil, Must give us pause: theres the respect That forges hap of so long life; For who would channel the whips and scorns of time, The oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely, The pangs of disdain love, the laws delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient sexual morality of the horrifying takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a spare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscoverd country from whose bourn No traveller re change states, puzzles the will And makes us preferably a bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us either; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied over with the pale deteriorate of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lag the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be each my sins rememberd. Translation: To be, or not to be. That is the question. Is it noble to su! ffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, If you need to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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