SIMPLY SHAKESPEARE
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EXERCISES
© S.P.P. 1994

Hamlet 
Act III   Scene 1

 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 the flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ah, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal call,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorn of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's confumely,

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 bodlcin? 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 ease of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of actions.