:49:00
he won't end up killing himself.
:49:04
I'm... not joking, sir.
:49:08
Well, unfortunately,
we don't have any Shakespeare.
:49:13
To die, to sleep...
:49:16
no more...
:49:18
and by a sleep to say
we end the heartache...
:49:21
and the thousand natural shocks
that fesh is heir to.
:49:25
'Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wished.
:49:28
To die, to sleep...
:49:31
to sleep,
perchance to dream.
:49:34
Ay, there's the rub,
for in that sleep of death...
:49:37
what dreams may come
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
:49:42
must give us pause.
:49:46
There's the respect
that makes calamity of so long life.
:49:51
For who would bear the whips
and scorns of time.
:49:55
Th'oppressor's wrong,
the proud man's contumely,
:49:59
the pangs of despised love,
:50:01
the law's delay,
the insolence of office...
:50:06
Hmm. Looks like we do have
the old Bard after all, sir.
:50:10
- Looks like we do.
- He'll handle it.
:50:14
[Whispers]
Come on, Foxworth.
:50:23
Th' oppressor's wrong,
the proud man's contumely,
:50:28
the pangs of despised love,
the law's delay,
:50:32
the insolence of office,
and the spurns...
:50:35
that patient merit
of th' unworthy takes,
:50:38
when he himself might his quietus
make with a bare bodkin?
:50:43
- That's nice, David.
- Who would fardels bear,
:50:45
to grunt and sweat
under weary life,
:50:49
- but that the threat...
- [Warning Whistle]
:50:51
Of something after death,
the undiscovered country...
:50:55
from whose bourn
and no traveller returns,
:50:58
puzzles the will,
and makes us rather bear those ills we have...