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... The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George ... - Страница 261 по William Shakespeare - 1807 Пълен достъп -
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