time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Rõhuja väära, uhke solvamist contumely The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, Äratõugatud armastuse valupisteid, seaduse viivitust The insolence of office, and the spurns Ametniku jultumust, ja halvakspanu, That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, Mida kannatab vääritu kannatlik väärtus, When he himself might his quietus make Kui ta ise võib ennast lõpetada With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, Vaid pistodaga ? kes kannataks koormaid, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, Pahuralt kurdaks ja higistaks tüütava elu all But that the dread of something after death, Kuid et kartus millegi ees pärast surma The undiscovered country, from whose bourn Avastamata maa, mille piirilt No traveller returns, puzzles the will, Ükski rändur ei naase, hämmeldab tahet,
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry,
annaabi.ee 
