To Be or Not to Be


>>You’re going to do
a little bit of acting for us if you’re willing.>>I love to act. To be or not to be,
that is the question.>>What I want you to do is look
into the camera, and starting at the top, I want you to do
as much of the to be or not to be speech from Hamlet
as you can remember. We’ve had six year old kids
who could do the whole thing. We’ve had professional
actors who could do one line. So it’s fine if all
you can do is one line. My guess is you can
probably do at least two. But, so just do as many
as you can remember.>>Oh man.>>Oh my gosh.>>That’s terrible. It’s like an English
professor’s nightmare.>>This is not for acting right?>>No.>>Not a good actor.>>Oh my goodness, my goodness. Okay. Are we ready.>>Okay. Slowly.>>To be, slowly. I was too fast already. Let’s try again.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>To be, or not to be,
that is the question.>>Vivir, o no vivir:
esa es la pregunta!. 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? a morir, to die a
dormir 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?>>And thus conscience doth
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.>>To be or not to be.>>That is the question. Whether tis nobler, oh, I
had most of it memorized.>>Whether it is nobler of the
mind reason to bear the whips and scorns of arrows or
take arms against them.>>To suffer the
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
or go back to bed.>>Or to take up, oh, to take up
arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.>>To die, to sleep,
is that what’s next? To die, to sleep.>>To sleep, to dream.>>To die, to sleep.>>To die, I don’t know.>>To die, I think
I skipped a part.>>Shall give us
pause, is that right? I don’t remember.>>No, done. [Laughs].

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