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To die. . . to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream - aye there's the rub For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come
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 trouble, And by opposing end them?
Good-night sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest
