The Sleep of Death

Ham.
To be, or not to be,--that is the question:--
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?--To die,--to sleep,--
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to.

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;

To die,--to sleep;--
To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

Ghost
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abus'd;

Ham
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns

Ghost
but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.

Ham.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell?

But that the dread of something after death,--

Ghost
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

Ham.
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?

To die,--to sleep;--
To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come