1. To be, or not to be, that is the question: 

2. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune 

3. Or to take arms against a sea of troubles 

4. And by opposing end them.

5. To die, to sleep, no more; 

6. And by a sleep to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks 

That flesh is heir to: 

7. ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished: 

To die, to sleep; 

To sleep perchance to dream. 

8. Aye, 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 a life.

9. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

10. Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, 

The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay, 

The insolence of office and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?

11. Who would 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, 

12. And makes us rather bear those ills we have 

Than fly to others we know not of?

13. Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all; 

14. And thus the native hue of resolution

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

15. And enterprises of great pitch and moment 

With this regard their currents turn awry, 

16. And lose the name of action.