Multi-cultural Education

William Shakespeare. Hamlet Soliloquy.

              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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