To be or not to be
That is the question
To persue this course could end in strife
and put an end to my life
To die
To sleep!
To sleep
Perchance to dream
For what dreams to come
Aye, there's the rub!
Or, so it seems
For who it bear the whips and scorns of life
despised love the laws unjust
The Mother, I thought I could trust
Who would a pack-horse be
or live on scraps like a hungry dog
Be fed and slain like a Christmas hog
When he himself might end his life
With a bit of rope
or a little knife
But the fear of something after death
Borne to that unknown country
no traveler can tell
Is it to heaven we go
Or straight to hell?
This makes us bear the ills we have
Then fly to others that we know not of
And lose the name of action

SHORT MUSIC INTERLUDE

Shall I kill a king
A Ghost bids me hate?
Or leave him to heaven to decide his fate?
Yes, men have always proven cowards
and live in abject fear
And tyants always seem to win
As life is held so dear
Yes, more evidence is needed
Before my actions clear