Monday, 9 June 2008

IF SHRI SHAKESPEARE COULD READ THIS!

As Bill (of the Shakespeare fame) in his days would have said:

To be, or not to be, that is the Question:

Whether ‘tis Nobler in the minde to suffer

The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune

Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe

No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end

The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes

That Flesh is heyre too? ‘Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To dye to sleepe,

To sleepe, perchance to Dream; I, there’s the rvb,

For tn that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,

When we have shuffel’d off this mortal coile,

Must give vs pawse. There’s the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,

The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,

The pangs of dispriz’d Loue, the Lawes delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himselfe might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne

No Traveller returnes, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,

Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,

And thus the Native hew of Resolution

Is sicklied o’re, with the pale cast of Thought,

And enterprizes of great pith and moment,

With this regard their Currants turne away

And loose the name of Action.

Then, in modern times, the olde Enlishe became:

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 troubles,

And by opposing them? To die; to sleep;

No More: and, by a sleep to say an end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuddled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who could bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy lakes,

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,

That 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 doth make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.

Of course, in today’s times, when ‘who has the time?’ this famous soliloquy would become in the sms 4mt sumthng like ths::

2 B nt 2 B: tht is the ?;

Whthr ts nblr in the mnd 2 sffr

The slngs & ROs of outrajus 4tun,

2 tk Rms agnst a C of trbls,

& by oppsng Nd thM? 2 di: 2 zzz:

No mre; & by a zzz 2 sy V Nd

The ake, & the 1000 ntrl shox

Th@ flsh is air 2? ts a cnsmmasun

Dwowtly 2 B wshd. 2 di: 2 zzz,

2 zzz: prchnce 2 drm: ay, thrs the rb,

4 in tht zzz of N, wot drms may cum,

Wen V hav shffld of this mrt ,

Nst giv us paws. Thrs th rspkt

Tht mks Clmty of so lng lfe:

4 hu wud the whps & scrns of ,

Th opprssrs rong; th prd mn’s cntmly,

Th pngs of dsprzd’d luv, the ‘s Dly,

Th inslns of ofis, & th spms

Tht ptnt mrt of th unmrthy tax,

Wen he hmslf mite hs qYtus mk

Wth a bodkin? Hu wud thse fRdl

2 grnt & swet unda a weRy lfe,

Br tht th dred of smthng aftr N,

Th undscvrd cntry frm hus born

No trvllr rtrns, pzzls th wll,

& mks is rthr thos illz V hv,

Thn fly 2 othrs tht V no not of

cnsns dth mk cwrds of us all,

& th ntv hu of rslusun,

Is sckld , wth th cst of thot,

& Ntr of grt pth & mmnt

Wth ths rgrd thr AC/DC trn a-ry,

& lse th nm of axun.


Heh! Heh! Not bad, eh?

Ravi The B.

Ravi The B.