Her father and myself lawful espials will so bestow ourselves that seeing unseen 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 heartache 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—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. If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing and ‘scape detecting I will pay the theft. ""