第8章 竇霆(3 / 3)

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 _disibledevent=

“嗯,我先掛了。等我回家網上說。”

“嗯,你少抽點兒煙啊。別以為我看不見就可以為所欲為。”

“嗬嗬,嗯,管家婆我知道了。”說著,竇霆就把煙掐掉了,揉揉眉心,準備回家。