哈姆雷特獨白：
生存還是毀滅，這是個值得思考的問題：
默然忍受命運的暴虐的毒箭，或是挺身反抗人世的無涯的苦難，通過鬥爭把它們掃清，這兩種行爲，哪一種更高貴？
死了，睡着了，什麼都完了；要是在這一種睡眠之中，我們心頭的創痛，以及其他血肉之軀所不能避免的打擊，都可以從此消失，那正是我們求之不得的結局。
死了，睡着了，睡着了也許會做夢；嗯，阻礙就在這兒：因爲當我們擺脫了這一具腐朽的皮囊以後，在那死的睡眠裏，究竟將要做些什麼夢，那不能不使我們躊躇顧慮。人們甘心久困於患難之中，也就是爲了這個緣故；誰願意忍受世人的鞭撻和譏諷、壓迫者的凌辱、傲慢者的冷眼、被輕蔑的愛情的慘痛、法庭的拖延、官吏的橫暴和費勁辛勞所換來的小人的鄙視，要是他要用一柄小小的刀子，就可以清算他自己的一生，誰願意負者這樣的重擔，在煩勞的生命的壓迫下呻吟流汗，倘不是因爲懼怕不可知的死後，懼怕那從來不曾有一個旅人回來過的神祕王國，是它迷惑了我們的意志，使我們寧願忍受目前的折磨，不敢向我們不知道的痛苦飛去？這樣，重重的顧慮使我們全變成了懦夫，決心的熾熱的光彩，被審慎的思維蓋上了一層灰色，偉大的事業在這一種考慮之下，也會逆流而退，失去了行動的意義。
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 end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we 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 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,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.