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Hamlet's soliloquy

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To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
Create your own at Storyboard That

To be or not to be. That is the question.

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 wish’d, To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

I'm scared to live and scared to die!!

Should I just end it all?


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
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,

Life is so hard!


Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;
And thus the native hue ofresolution
Is sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,

Suicide and murder are morally wrong!


And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

I guess I won't do anything!!

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
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Storyboard Text

  • To be or not to be. That is the question.
  • Should I just end it all?
  • I'm scared to live and scared to die!!
  • To die; to sleep No more, and by a sleep to sayWe end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocksThat flesh is heir to; tis a consummationDevoutly to be wish’d, To die, to sleepTo sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rubFor in that sleep of death what dreams may come
  • When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause there’s the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.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 spurnsThat patient merit of the unworthy takes,
  • Life is so hard!
  • Than fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does makecowards of us all;And thus the native hue ofresolutionIs sicklied o’er with the palecast of thought,
  • Suicide and murder are morally wrong!
  • I guess I won't do anything!!
  • And enterprises of great pith and momentWith this regard their currents turn awry,And lose the name of action.
  • Oops! There is Ophelia. I am finished!!
  • Soft you now!The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisonsBe all my sins remember’d.
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