[This message has been edited by Stephanos (07-23-2007 06:33 PM).]

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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 heart-ache 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,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised 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? 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
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 remember'd.

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1          Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze
2          That blows from the green fields and from the clouds
3          And from the sky: it beats against my cheek,
4          And seems half-conscious of the joy it gives.
5          O welcome Messenger! O welcome Friend!
6          A captive greets thee, coming from a house
7          Of bondage, from yon City's walls set free,
8          A prison where he hath been long immured.
9          Now I am free, enfranchis'd and at large,
10        May fix my habitation where I will.
11        What dwelling shall receive me? In what Vale
12        Shall be my harbour? Underneath what grove
13        Shall I take up my home, and what sweet stream
14        Shall with its murmur lull me to my rest?
15        The earth is all before me: with a heart
16        Joyous, nor scar'd at its own liberty,
17        I look about, and should the guide I chuse
18        Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
19        I cannot miss my way. I breathe again;
20        Trances of thought and mountings of the mind
21        Come fast upon me: it is shaken off,
22        As by miraculous gift 'tis shaken off,
23        That burthen of my own unnatural self,
24        The heavy weight of many a weary day
25        Not mine, and such as were not made for me.
26        Long months of peace (if such bold word accord
27        With any promises of human life),
28        Long months of ease and undisturb'd delight
29        Are mine in prospect; whither shall I turn
30        By road or pathway or through open field,
31        Or shall a twig or any floating thing
32        Upon the river, point me out my course?

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