莎士比亚经典独白

跪求莎士比亚经典独白啦~~！！

莎士比亚经典独白经典台词对白哈姆雷特独白(1)生存还是毁灭？这是个问题。
究竟哪样更高贵，去忍受那狂暴的命运无情的摧残 还是挺身去反抗那无边的烦恼，把它扫一个干净。去死，去睡就结束了，如果睡眠能结束我们心灵的创伤和肉体所承受的千百种痛苦，那真是生存求之不得的天大的好事。去死，去睡，去睡，也许会做梦！唉，这就麻烦了，即使摆脱了这尘世 可在这死的睡眠里又会做些什么梦呢？真得想一想，就这点顾虑使人受着终身的折磨，谁甘心忍受那鞭打和嘲弄，受人压迫，受尽侮蔑和轻视，忍受那失恋的痛苦，法庭的拖延，衙门的横征暴敛，默默无闻的劳碌却只换来多少凌辱。但他自己只要用把尖刀就能解脱了。谁也不甘心，呻吟、流汗拖着这残生，可是对死后又感觉到恐惧，又从来没有任何人从死亡的国土里回来，因此动摇了，宁愿忍受着目前的苦难 而不愿投奔向另一种苦难。顾虑就使我们都变成了懦夫，使得那果断的本色蒙上了一层思虑的惨白的容颜，本来可以做出伟大的事业，由于思虑就化为乌有了，丧失了行动的能力。Hamlet: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. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!

生存还是毁灭？这是个问题

生存还是毁灭 这是个问题 是忍受狂暴命运矢石交攻, 还是挺身反抗人世无崖的苦难 究竟那样更高贵!

你好。以下是我找到的三段莎士比亚名作《哈姆雷特》(又译作《哈姆莱特》)中丹麦王子哈姆莱特的经典独白。其中第一段就是他最著名的“生存还是毁灭？”即你提问当中所说到的“to be ,or not to be。”那一段，我也按照你提问当中的要求给你找到了中英文对照的版本。 以下是这三段经典独白： 哈姆雷特独白(1) 生存还是毁灭？这是个问题。 究竟哪样更高贵，去忍受那狂暴的命运无情的摧残 还是挺身去反抗那无边的烦恼，把它扫一个干净。 去死，去睡就结束了，如果睡眠能结束我们心灵的创伤和肉体所承受的千百种痛苦，那真是生存求之不得的天大的好事。去死，去睡， 去睡，也许会做梦！ 唉，这就麻烦了，即使摆脱了这尘世 可在这死的睡眠里又会做些什么梦呢？真得想一想，就这点顾虑使人受着终身的折磨， 谁甘心忍受那鞭打和嘲弄，受人压迫，受尽侮蔑和轻视，忍受那失恋的痛苦，法庭的拖延，衙门的横征暴敛，默默无闻的劳碌却只换来多少凌辱。但他自己只要用把尖刀就能解脱了。 谁也不甘心，呻吟、流汗拖着这残生，可是对死后又感觉到恐惧，又从来没有任何人从死亡的国土里回来，因此动摇了，宁愿忍受着目前的苦难 而不愿投奔向另一种苦难。 顾虑就使我们都变成了懦夫，使得那果断的本色蒙上了一层思虑的惨白的容颜，本来可以做出伟大的事业，由于思虑就化为乌有了，丧失了行动的能力。 Hamlet: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. '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, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' 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 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? 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 pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action.