turn this message into modern day language
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 heart-ache 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,
To be, or not to be: that's the question: Whether it's better to suffer
The challenges and misfortunes that come our way,
Or to fight against a multitude of problems,
And overcome them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by sleeping, we put an end
To the heartache and the many difficulties
That life throws at us, it's a desirable outcome
That we fervently wish for. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: maybe to dream: yes, that's the dilemma;
Because in the sleep of death, what dreams may come
When we have rid ourselves of this mortal coil,
It gives us pause. That's the thing
That makes a wretched existence out of life's length;
Because who would endure the punishments and insults of time,
The oppressor's injustices, the arrogant man's insults.