#the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns

[educatedinyellow]

I’ve always read that line with ‘suffering the slings and arrows’ as the consequence of choosing to continue to exist. And in Hamlet’s eyes at this moment, the only meaningful way to take arms against the sea of life’s troubles and definitively end them would be to commit suicide (i.e. choose ‘not to be,’ since you can’t suffer in the mind anymore if you shut down the mind permanently. Which is why he then becomes haunted by the prospect that maybe death doesn’t shut down the mind permanently—what if it’s not just the painless sleep of oblivion? What if your mind is still there in some kind of afterlife? What if the suffering’s *worse*?). This isn’t a scene where he’s trying to nerve himself to fight injustice by taking up arms against his uncle and saving the day/his mom/his country: the whole monologue is instead Hamlet trying to decide whether it’s nobler to live and continue to suffer, or brave the unknown and die. My impression is that he thinks suicide would be better, or at least less painful, but he knows himself to be too scared of what might come after death to attempt it.

[natjennie]

the rules for the ghosts getting sucked off are sooo fascinating because it so exactly mirrors life and death like, there is no definite mechanic for who moves on and when. robin, who's been around for thousands of years, still has a 50/50 chance of guessing if someone who dies is going to stay or go immediately. they have no idea what happens to people who move on, whether right at the time of death or some number of years later. it's that "exits are not made equal" griffin mcelroy quote. they have no way to prepare, no timeline to adhere to. because of this lack of structure they also have no motivation to finish their unfinished business. there's no guarantee that what comes after is better. so there's no rush. but at the same time there is an ever encroaching fear that any change, or lack of change, could send you towards the light. "that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns." and it should be terrifying. but it becomes their normal state of affairs. they have seen the end of the mortal coil, and what waits for them but yet another indefinite, unpredictable finish line? and they carry on. because what else can they do? they play games and host clubs and watch tv and play pretend and talk to each other and laugh and cry and mostly just.. live. despite the unknowable, ever-looming end of everything, again, they live.

[mayasaura]

Harrow the Ninth has already used "...something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns," and "To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream!" But I think Hamlet has more ambiance to give

So just off the cuff, a few lines from Hamlet that go hard enough to be used in The Locked Tomb:

It is a consummation devoutly to be wished (Act 3, Scene 1, 71-72)

I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee (Act 3, Scene 2, 77-79)

Sweets to the sweet, farewell! (Act 5, Scene 1, 254)

Goodnight, sweet prince. (Act 5, Scene 2, 396)

"It is a consummation devoutly to be wished,"

Part of Hamlet's most famous soliloquy, the consummation he means here is death. I've already referenced this line more than once in meta about Paul, because depending on the context, consummation can mean "termination, a final ending," or "the state of being completed/perfected," or "sexual intercourse in the context of finalising a marriage." It seems like a reference tailor-made for the Eightfold Word, and the fine line it walks between consummation and consumption.

"I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee"

This line is said by Hamlet to Horatio, but really the context doesn't matter on this one. I just think "heart's core" and "in my heart of heart" (or your/her heart of heart) have potential.

"Sweets to the sweet, farewell!"

Gertrude says this while scattering flowers over Ophelia's grave, but honestly? I'm seeing this being lifted as a cheeky line for Ianthe to say to Harrow, perhaps throwing a gift to her while making a strategic retreat. It sounds like Ianthe's style of flirting. But I could also see Dulcinea or Augustine saying it, in other contexts.

"Goodnight, sweet prince."

Kiriona. Duh. As Horatio's final goodbye to Hamlet, this would have to be used in either a very serious or very tongue in cheek context.

[fallonash]

"I thought you were dead." Perhaps Siuan is an apparition, standing there unmoving in the darkened room.

An unexpected meeting, some time after season 2, rated M.

I wrote most of this right after 2x07 aired and I've had feelings about it ever since, I'm just a very slow editor. A little bit angsty, but it's not sad.

[a-j-s-the-only]

“For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th' 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 th' unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would 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 pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.-Soft you now, The fair Ophelia!-Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.”

-Hamlet. Act 3, Scene 1, Page 4

[crimeboys]

Knowledge has always been a driving factor in the spirit of humanity

Countless men and women have given their lives simply to fill out a couple specs on a map.

You should consider it the highest honor, then, that I would send you to that great undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.

Finally, you'll learn what lies beyond the great blackness that has puzzled every explorer since the word was first coined.

So as you feel the cold bite of my steel against your throat, and the heat of your blood bleeds through to your chest, I hope you have just enough life left in you, to garble a ruined "Thank you."

you could make a c!crimeboys au out of this

[transsexualcoriolanus]

i find it interesting when hamlet productions put ‘to be or not to be’ in different places but i also think the original location is really important, because of the mention of “something after death - the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns”.

that line seems confusing because obviously hamlet has seen the ghost of his father, and therefore knows people can return from the dead. so i think it’s really important that it comes just after the soliloquy at the end of act 2, when hamlet creates his plan of the play within a play. it’s definitely possible that hamlet was genuinely just trying to play it safe with this plan and his justification - “the spirit that i have seen may be a devil” - but, especially as hamlet is often described as a genre aware character, i think some part of him probably knew that it was his father he saw, and that claudius is guilty.

and that line in the to be or not to be soliloquy shows that further: he’s not just being cautious, he’s fully convinced himself that wasn’t his father. possibly because he doesn’t want it to be. he doesn’t want to have to kill someone, his own uncle, and the play is his last, desperate attempt to get rid of that responsibility. and at the start of act 3 he’s clinging onto the hope that he won’t have to do this.

so, really, ‘to be or not to be’ needs to happen after the end of act 2 and before the play, because he goes from the tentative language of act 2 - “the spirit that i have seen may be a devil” - to the definite “no traveller returns”, which doesn’t make sense the other way around. and it can’t happen after the play because by that point hamlet has confirmed claudius’ guilt and cannot convince himself that the ghost lied anymore

[emrakul29]

do you hate me, emrakul29?

—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. 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 despised 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 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 other 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 thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

[thuidium-delicatulum]

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 wished!

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 despised 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 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 resolutionIs 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 thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

wow thank you! i enjoy hamlet!

anyhow

my favourite shakespeare play is a midsummer nights dream :)

[ask-post-dgs2-crew]

To anyone

Thoughts on former queen Elizabeth’s passing?

Anonymous,

I weep for the life that has passed. Such a beautiful age of art, of philosophy, of theatre--the patron saint of the bard himself!! While it has been hundreds of years since our late leader Elizabeth, her impact will be felt for centuries to come, I know.

Death comes to us all, and while such a thought may be dreadful to some, he has wise words to share on such a subject, as with all others... She has gone to the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns. To die, to sleep, no more. To sleep, perchance to dream-- and so on and so forth.

With slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

William Petenshy

[daytonasand]

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 wished. to die, to sleep. to sleep! perchance to dream? 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 rest. there’s the respect that makes calamity of such long life. for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressors wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the laws 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 fardels bear to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death—the undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns—puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?

[wherethegravelsthin]

not to get emotional about a 460 year old man but god do you ever just read Hamlet act iii scene i, the to be or not to be soliloquy, and just think about the death of Shakespeare's son Hamnet in 1596 and how Hamlet was written between 1599 and 1601 and just, think about the universality of the experience of grief and suicidal ideation? Shakespeare remains an icon for his writing over four and a half centuries after he was born because the things he's Writing About are so universal to the experiences of human nature and life. Reading that soliloquy... I've been there, in the twilight of my depression. I've wondered whether or not I'm a coward for not just killing myself and getting it over with, or if I'd be a coward for doing so in the first place. I've feared about what would happen after I die if I did kill myself, "the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns", I've been there with Hamlet and it's been over four whole centuries since it was written. such a masterpiece of writing.

[recklessoptimist3228]

“William Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’ mused that death was the “undiscovered country…from whose bourne no traveler returns. Death has always been the one unique mystery to which there was no solution other than the pious hope of faith-the great unknown that was the most pervasive source of all our fears”

#Near-DeathExperiences🖤

[urlocalsadkid-l]

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 wished!

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 despised love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurn.

That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would 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 resolutionIs 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 thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

🫶

[self-conscious-turtle]

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 wished!

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 despised 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 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 resolutionIs 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 thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

why

[mrbrojangles]

When you watch the various performances of Hamlet's famous 'To Be or Not to Be' speech (Act 3 Scene 1), you can always tell whether or not the actor has actually considered suicide themselves.

Some rattle through it at a fast past; some do it as they imagine a Proper Shakespearian Actor might.

But the ones who know, who have been there. Those who have weighed up the sheer torment of existence - the thousand natural pains that flesh is heir to - against the fear of the unknown: 'the undiscovered country from whose bourn, no traveller returns'?

And survived?

They get it.