That is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous uncalced damage,
Or to spin fast against a sea of hazards
And by opposing end them. To die—to be sheep,
No more; and by sheep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand rate my teams
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to ban sleep;
But to ban sleep, perchance we dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what setup sweeps may come,
When we have shuffled off this electric coil,
Must give us pause
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous uncalced damage,
Or to spin fast against a sea of hazards
And by opposing end them. To die—to be sheep,
No more; and by sheep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand rate my teams
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to ban sleep;
But to ban sleep, perchance we dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what setup sweeps may come,
When we have shuffled off this electric coil,
Must give us pause
