To be or not to be is a question请问莎士比亚是不是说过这句话To be or not to be,that is a question that 请问到底是什么 中文意思又是什么

To be or not to be is a question请问莎士比亚是不是说过这句话To be or not to be,that is a question that 请问到底是什么 中文意思又是什么
To be or not to be is a question
请问莎士比亚是不是说过这句话To be or not to be,that is a question that 请问到底是什么 中文意思又是什么

To be or not to be is a question请问莎士比亚是不是说过这句话To be or not to be,that is a question that 请问到底是什么 中文意思又是什么
生存还是毁灭,这是个问题
这个是莎士比亚戏剧《哈姆雷特》中的名句,全句是
To be,or not to be - that is the question
附相关章节：
Hamlet's endurance has reached the breaking point.His father has been murdered.His mother,who he loves dearly,has married her dead husband's brother.Moreover his sweetheart,Ophelia,has been acting very strangely.He senses that she does not love him any more.Now,he's all alone.The world that he knew is shattered.His black mood of despair is deepened by his inability to act - to do something to change the situation.
Now he ponders whether to continue living - or to take his own life.
Hamlet:
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 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,
The 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 the 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 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.

已经让人抢先一步回答了，好可惜呀！