Jamie's Soliloquies

To corps, or not to corps: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to volunter to stop the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to not take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing not end them?
To go: to live; Forever more; and by going 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 stay, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in t hat sleep what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
must we give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear another man's 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 unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make with a single choice? 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 coward of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterterprises of great pitch and moment
Is it with this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action?-------