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 heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; ´tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-
To sleep, prechance to dream, ay there´s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?

Bow, exit stage left.

.

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Sofie 'Melle' Werkers

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