Unknown Story

 To be or not to be.  That is the question:  Whether it’s 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 – perhaps to dream.  But that’s the rub:  In the sleep of death, what dreams may come?  Thinking like this turns every man into a coward.  Every choice seems bad when I brood about it, and in the end, I’m paralyzed – unable to do anything at all.
  I humbly thank you; well, well, well. 
 My good lord!  How have you been?
  No!  I never gave you anything!
  My lord, I’ve come to return the gifts you’ve given me.  Please take them.
You know, Ophelia, I did love you once.
 But you did, my lord.  And as you did, you said such sweet things that the presents became even more beautiful.
You shouldn’t have believed me.  Goodness can’t overcome our sinful nature.  I loved you not.
  Indeed, my lord, you made me believe you did.
Get thee to a nunnery.  Do you want to give birth to sinners?  Even I, myself – a rather honest person – could accuse myself of so many crimes that it would have been better if my mother had never given birth to me.  Go to a nunnery!  Where’s your father, by the way?
 I was the more deceived.

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