To Be or Not To Be (Modern)

To live, or to die, that is the question:
Is it more noble to suffer in my mind
The guns and bullets of unfair luck
Or to wage a war against a horde of troubles,
And by confronting remove them. To die -to sleep-
Forever; and by sleep to cause end to
The heartache, and the thousand pin pricks
That flesh is bound to. It is an action
Committed to be wished upon. To die -to sleep.
To sleep- perhaps to dream: ay, there's the catch!
Who knows what dreams may come from the sleep of death
When we have left this mortal world,
Must give us time. There's the respect
That makes us live through troubles.
Who could take on the knives and thorns of time,
The pursuer's wrong, the proud man's humiliation,
The jolts of forbidden love, the law's delay,
The impudence of office, and the rejectments
That patient award that the unworthy seize
When he himself might make his relaxation
With a cold dagger? Who would these burdens bear,
To grumble and sweat under a weary life
But that the dread of something after death-
The unknown land, from the boundary
No traveler returns- challenges one's drive,
And makes us rather bear the sickness we have
Rather than fly to others that we don't know of?
Thus conscience makes us all cowards,
And thus the untarnished color of action
Is painted over with the pale color of my thought.
And enterprises of heart and soul and moment
With this regard their dominant course turned amiss
And lose the name of action. -Hush!
The beautiful Ophelia!- Stunning, in her appearance
All my sins remembered.