Lord Paradise
Senior Member
To get drunk, or not to get drunk: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous lucidity,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by drinking end them. To pass out: 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 wish'd. To pass out, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of alcohol poisoning what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this sober 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,
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 undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
If that helps at all, I changed about three words.