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Translate this to modern English: 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,

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Answer:To live, or to die? That is the question. Is it nobler to suffer through all the terrible things fate throws at you, or to fight off your troubles, and, in doing so, end them completely? To die, to sleep—because that’s all dying is—and by a sleep I mean an end to all the heartache and the thousand injuries that we are vulnerable to—that’s an end to be wished for! To die, to sleep. To sleep, perhaps to dream—yes, but there’s there’s the catch. Because the kinds of dreams that might come in that sleep of death—after you have left behind your mortal body—are something to make you anxious. That’s the consideration that makes us suffer the calamities of life for so long. Because who would bear all the trials and tribulations of time—the oppression of the powerful, the insults from arrogant men,

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