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. That I essentially am not in madness but mad in craft. I do repent but heaven hath pleased it so to punish me with this and with with me that i must be their scourge and minister. I will bestow him and answer well the death I gave him. So again good night. I must be cruel only to be kind. This bad begins and worse remains behind.