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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 se
a of troubles and by opposing end them. to die to sleep,no more and by a sleep t
o say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to
 tis a consummation devoutly to be wishd. to die, to sleep to sleep, perchance t
o dream ay, theres the rub for in that sleep of death what dreams may come,when 
we have shuffled off this mortal coil,must give us pause theres the respect that
 makes calamity of so long life.for who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
th oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely,the pangs of disprizd love, the la
ws delay,the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th unwort
hy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin who would fa
rdels bear,to grunt and sweat under a weary life,but that the dread of something
 after death,the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, pu
zzles the will,and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others th
at we know not of thus conscience does make cowards of us all,and thus the nativ
e hue of resolution is sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought, and enterpris
es of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose 
the name of action.                                                             


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