For feedback:
Use sequential accuracy
Use positional accuracy
Sort the following items into the correct order.
To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd.
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 be, or not to be, that is the question:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
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.
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
The undiscovere'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?
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.
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
You need to attempt the task before checking the answer