To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub:
That which we call sleep by any other word would feel as sweet?

When we dream the dream where dreamers lie to themselfs
And stars move in the sky; while they never left their rightfull place
’cause it was only our restless brain that was fooled?

Or we imagine the cool hand of the loved one on our forehead,
to stop the raging fever in our minds;
Slings and arrows that we throw on ourselfs.

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