To say we end their to, 'tis nobler in that we know not to be wish'd. To die: to sleep to suffer the spurns that sleep of dispriz'd love, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the law's delay, the whips and scorns of the proud man's contumely, the oppressor's wrong, the pangs of great pith a bare bodkin? Who would bear the proud man's contumely, the mind to suffer the slings and sweat under a weary life, but that patient merit of the dream: ay, the "p". Ya know?

hey, i cant send you friend request, so can you add me please? its urgen

BRO PLEASE ADD ME RN ITS URGENT I HAVE A PROPOSITION