To kill or not to kill, that is the question.
Whether 'tis more profitable in the wallet
To declare war for outrageous reasons,
Or to take arms against a sea of Muslims,
And by killing, end them. To suffer peace
No more; and by a peace to say we end
The uncertainty of a thousand unspent freedoms
That man is heir to -- 'tis a consumption
Some politicians wish. To have peace,
And with peace, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For with peace what dreams may come,
When we have given over our liberties
Which must give us uncertainty. There's the vision
That makes security such an ephemeral thing.
For who would bear the danger and risks of dignity,
Th'leader's vision, the prophet's hope,
The pangs of yearning to be free, the law's concern,
The insolence of aspiration and the spurious
belief that sovereignty is worthwhile,
When he himself might suffer enlightenment,
By mere contemplation? Who would this uncertainty bear,
To worry and to fret under a dangerous light,
But the dread of those we have provoked,
The unknown humans who provoke us in turn,
And no reconciliation will be returned,
And makes us bear the hate we have,
Rather than to acknowledge the heart of others?
Thus conscience does make fools of us all,
And the stalwart cry of resolution,
Covers over the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of loudness and action
With this regard turn morality aside,
And lose the name of decency.
Poetic License to Kill.