The Shakespeare Conference: SHK 17.0762  Tuesday, 5 September 2006

From: 		Gene Tyburn <This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.>
Date: 		Friday, 1 Sep 2006 12:31:42 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: 	Lyrics for My Hamlet Opera

Note to the composer:  Hamlet enters bedraggled reading from a small book
deep in thought.  His aria must start out very thoughtful and build.

To be or not to be
That is the question
To pursue this course
Could end in strife
And put an end to my life.

To die....to sleep....to sleep?
Perchance to dream?
For what dreams may come?  ha!
There's the rub, or so it seems.

Aye! for who would bare
The whips and scorns of life
Despised love, the laws unjust
The mother I thought I could trust.

Who would a packhorse be
Or live on scraps like a hungry dog
Be fed and slain like a Christmas hog
When he himself, might end his life
With a bit of rope or a little knife.

But that the fear of something after death
Bourne to that unknown country
No traveler can tell
Is it to heaven we go
Or straights to hell?

This makes us bear the ills we have
Then fly to others that we know not of
And lose the name of action.

[short music interlude]

Shall I kill a king
A ghost bids me hate
Or leave him to heaven
To decide his fate?

Yes, men have always proven cowards
And live in abject fear.
And tyrants always seem to win
As live is held so dear.
Yes! More evidence is needed
Before my action's clear.

But soft....the fair Ophelia

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