To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether t is 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,t is a consummation Devoutly to be wishd. 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, The oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely, The pangs of despised love, the laws delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make