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

[[136]]With a bare bodkin? who would fardels[136:1] bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn