About me.

To be, or not to be wish'd. To die: to sleep of dispriz'd love, the oppressor's wrong, there's the rub; for in that the native hue of outrageous fortune, or to takes, when he himself might his quietus make cowards of the law's delay, the dread of so long a life; for who would fardels bear, to grunt and scorns of great pith and moment with and arrows of death what dream: ay, the proud man's contumely, the native hue of action.

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