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Hamlet Project By Justice Harris

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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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

Create your own at Storyboard That

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.


Must give us pause. There’s

the respect

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

That makes calamity of so

long life.


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’ 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 th’

unworthy takes,

When he himself might his

quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who

would fardels bear,

to grunt and sweat under a

weary life,

But that the dread of

something after death,

The undiscovered country

from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles

the will

Works Cited:

"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62).

"To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70).

"Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)

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Storyboard Text

  • To be, or not to be? That is the question.
  • For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,The insolence of office, andthe spurnsThat patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,When he himself might hisquietus makeWith a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,to grunt and sweat under aweary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscovered country from whose bournNo traveler returns, puzzlesthe will
  • Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe 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 endThe heartache and the thousand natural shocksThat flesh is heir to—’tis a consummationDevoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep.
  • Must give us pause. There’s the respectWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,For in that sleep of death what dreams may comeTo sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,That makes calamity of so long life.
  • Works Cited:"To be or not to be? That is the question" (Ham.3.1.62)."To die, to sleep-no more" (Ham.3.1.66-70)."Must give us pause. There's the respect" (Ham.3.1.74)
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