Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt

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 heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to.

To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.

Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on--or woe upon thy life!

But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.