William Shakespeare. Image courtesy of Wikipedia.
This month marks the 450th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth. To celebrate, we’ve revisited one of the most famous soliloquies he wrote – Hamlet’s famous ‘To be or not to be’.
With apologies to the bard, here’s our variation on the theme:
To lease, or not to lease, that is the question—
Whether ’tis Easier on the pocket to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Depreciation,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by leasing end them? To buy, to lease—
No more; and by a lease, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Cars are heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To buy, to lease,
To lease, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub,
For in that lease of cars, what dream cars may come,
When we have shuffled off this buying toil,
Must give us pause. There’s the disrespect
That makes Calamity of old car life:
For who would bear the Chips and Scratches of time,
The Insurance Assessor’s wrong, the proud man’s Nearly New,
The pangs of despised Colours, the Buyer’s delay,
The insolence of Offers, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Lexus make
With a mere Bravo? Who would these APRs bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after webuyanycar.com
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveler returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those cars we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Purchase does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Bought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Values turn awry,
And lose the game at Auction. Soft you now,
The fair Octavia. Hillman Imps, and all thy Ford Orions
Be in thou all my sins remembered.
In case you’re unfamiliar with it, here’s the original.
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 Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, 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 these Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveler returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does 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 pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in all thy Orisons
Be thou all my sins remembered.
- Can you think of any famous Shakespeare quotes that might be reworked to more modern use?