#poemoftheday is from Hamlet by William Shakespeare

from Hamlet by William Shakespeare

 

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. 'Tis a consummation

    Devoutly to be wish'd. 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,

    Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

    The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,

    The insolence of office, and the spurns

    That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

    When he himself might his quietus make

    With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,

    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

    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?

    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

    And thus the native hue of resolution

    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

    And enterprises of great pith and moment

    With this regard their currents turn awry

    And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!

    The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons

    Be all my sins rememb'red.