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- To be, or not to be, aye there's the point,
- To Die, to sleep, is that all? Aye all:
- No, to sleep, to dream, aye marry there it goes,
- For in that dream of death, when we awake,
- And borne before an everlasting Judge,
- From whence no passenger ever returned,
- The undiscovered country, at whose sight
- The happy smile, and the accursed damned.
- But for this, the joyful hope of this,
- Who'd bear the scorns and flattery of the world,
- Scorned by the right rich, the rich cursed of the poor?
- The widow being oppressed, the orphan wronged,
- The taste of hunger, or a tyrant's reign,
- And thousand more calamities besides,
- To grunt and sweat under this weary life,
- When that he may his full Quietus make,
- With a bare bodkin, who would this endure,
- But for a hope of something after death?
- Which puzzles the brain, and doth confound the sense,
- Which makes us rather bear those evils we have,
- Than fly to others that we know not of.
- Aye that, O this conscience makes cowards of us all,
- Lady in thy orisons, be all my sins remembered.
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