I have written a modern-language paraphrase of Hamlet's "To Be or Not
to Be" soliloquy for you. Read through it, and see if you get a better
sense of what Hamlet is saying about suicide, and the fear of what
comes after death:
To exist, or not to exist: that is the question:
Whether it's better to suffer
The sieges of bad luck,
Or to take up weapons against our troubles
And end them by fighting? To die: to sleep;
That's all; and in sleep to say that we end
The emotional pain and the many stresses
That we are subject to, it's an achievement
To be sought eagerly. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: maybe to dream: oh, there's the catch;
For in death's sleep, what dreams may come
When we have left this mortal life,
Must make us stop and think: there's the thing
That makes our troubles last so long;
For who would tolerate the indignities that time brings,
The injustice of the oppressor, the proud man's arrogant rudeness,
The pains of unrequited love, the delays of the law,
The contempt of our superiors, and the rejections
That happen to those who don't deserve them
When he himself might end it all
With a mere dagger? Who would bear burdens
To grunt and sweat under a tedious life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The unknown region from which
No traveller returns, confuses the mind
And makes us prefer to endure the troubles we have
Rather than fly to new, undefined troubles?
In this way, thinking makes cowards of us all;
And thus the natural color of decision-making
Becomes sickly with the pale color of thought,
And enterprises of great power and importance
At this point are derailed,
And become inactive. Hey now!
The lovely Ophelia! Girl, in your prayers
May all my sins be remembered.
========================================================
Here is a line-by-line comparison of Shakespeare's words and my
paraphrase:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
To exist, or not to exist: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Whether it's better to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
The sieges of bad luck,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
Or to take up weapons against our troubles
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
And end them by fighting? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
That's all; and in sleep to say that we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
The emotional pain and the many stresses
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
That we are subject to, it's an achievement
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To be sought eagerly. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
To sleep: maybe to dream: oh, there's the catch;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
For in death's sleep, what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
When we have left this mortal life,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
Must make us stop and think: there's the thing
That makes calamity of so long life;
That makes our troubles last so long;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
For who would tolerate the indignities that time brings,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The injustice of the oppressor, the proud man's arrogant rudeness,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The pains of unrequited love, the delays of the law,
The insolence of office and the spurns
The contempt of our superiors, and the rejections
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
That happen to those who don't deserve them
When he himself might his quietus make
When he himself might end it all
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
With a mere dagger? Who would bear burdens
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
To grunt and sweat under a tedious life,
But that the dread of something after death,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
The unknown region from which
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
No traveller returns, confuses the mind
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
And makes us prefer to endure the troubles we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Rather than fly to new, undefined troubles?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
In this way, thinking makes cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
And thus the natural color of decision-making
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
Becomes sickly with the pale color of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
And enterprises of great power and importance
With this regard their currents turn awry,
At this point are derailed,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
And become inactive. Hey now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
The lovely Ophelia! Girl, in your prayers
Be all my sins remember'd.
May all my sins be remembered.
========================================================
For your reference, here you will find the original soliloquy:
The Tech, M.I.T.: The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
http://the-tech.mit.edu/Shakespeare/hamlet/hamlet.3.1.html
I hope this helps. If anything about the soliloquy or the language I
used is not clear, please request clarification before rating my
answer; I'll be glad to offer further assistance.
Best wishes,
pinkfreud |
