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From The Feline Edition of Hamlet
(Or how it was meant to be written for Cats)

The Soliloquy

To feed, or not to feed,
That is the Question.
Whether it is nobler in the mind To suffer the screams of anguish and outrageous falsehoods;
Or to take her in my arms, awhile and see her troubles,
And will appeasing her, end them? -To try, for peace, -
No, for sure; and by that peace, can say we end?
The heartache and the thousand unnatural looks
That fish is for her, -'tis for her consumption
To be devoured, and then:- Oh sweet Ophelia!
To Lie, -to sleep; - To sleep!
Perchance to dream; aye there's the rub;
For in that sleep of yours, what dreams may come?
When you have shuffled off, and lay asleep in coil,
Must give us pause: to earn your respect,
That which makes calamity of our life:
For who would bear those rips and claws of thine?
For you're oppressor's wrongs, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of desired love, the claws delay,
The innocence of offence, - and the spurns
That patient merit of those unworthy purrs, When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare cupboard?
Who would run the risk?
Rather to grunt and sweat under a weary life;
Than that dread of something that may displease,
- That Undiscovered Country, from whose scorn
No traveller returns; - it puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear ills to others,
Than let others bear ill to yourself,
Thus conscience does make cowards or heroes of us all;
And thus the naive hue of resolution Is fussed over without care of thought;
And realise those moments of pith and torment,
With this regard, we cast our cares to the wind,
And lose myself in thy fur.
Soft you are now! The fair Ophelia: -
Nymph in my dreams
Be my sins remembered, forever?

Taken from a Old Re-Discovered Parchment - By Mark St. Jefferson

To see a scanned copy the original Work by Will Shakeyspare click Here