hamLET

To 🐝, or not tobe, that is the quextion:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings & 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 ❤-ache, and the thousand “““natural””” shocks
that (Flesh) is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wished. To 🎂die🎂, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub,
for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, [Translator note: 🎺]
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
must give us pause⏸.

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