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| (William Shakespeare. 1564-1616) |
"To Be Or Not To Be" 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.
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.
(From William Shakespeare's Hamlet)
There´s nothing between life and death. We were never asked to come to this life but we could have the power to put an end to our lives if we wished. So what´s the point of living all that suffering and struggle we are bound to stand? What makes us stick to Earth if there could exist something better?
(Thanks, Elena, for your inspiring comment).
Angelines.
Angelines.
Dear Angelines,
ResponderEliminarThanks to you for encourage me, for bringing out the best in people, the best in me.
I love Shakespeare and now I would like to talk about Hamlet´s love, of course, Ophelia. This is Hamlet´s letter and Polonius reads these words to the queen, words that Hamlet had written to Ophelia:
“You may wonder if the stars are fire,
You may wonder if the sun moves across the sky.
You may wonder if the truth is a liar,
But never wonder if I love.
Oh, Ophelia, I’m bad at poetry. I can’t put my feelings into verse, but please believe I love you best, oh, best of all. Believe it.
Yours forever, my dearest one,
as long as I live—still chugging along,
Hamlet.”
He believed that in periods of extreme distress, love keeps us going. So do I.
Kisses to yo, dear Angelines.
My dearest Rosalia de Castro, lovely the words to Ofelia. I strongly agree with them and also with you. But it is not only love which keeps us going but hope as well. And as I say that I´m thinking of.... give me some time and you´ll see. I mean, thank you for your new inspirational idea.
ResponderEliminarLots of love and kisses for you and thanks for your visit.
Angelines.