The stings 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! 't were a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die; to sleep;
To sleep?—perchance to dream!
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.