Hamlet, the 'New Democrat,' Reflects Upon Impeachment
To impeach or not to impeach: 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 impeach: 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 wished. To impeach, to sleep;
Please read more by Gary Corseri
by Gary Corseri
November 17, 2006
To impeach or not to impeach: 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 impeach: 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 wished. To impeach, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.
For in that sleep, what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Of our perversity? Did we not wink at it,
Pledge mortal arms, the fortunes of our poor,
Sanction the conqueror go forth from cankered bed
Cry havoc on the curly heads of babes,
And kiss their bloody arms with our sweet words?
There’s the respect that makes calamity
Of so long life—there’s the respect must give us pause
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of.
To impeach, or not to impeach—to ope
A can of worms of fetid humours, rank
With Hell, to peer into our own dank hearts
And sniff complicit greed and fear, draw forth
Contagion and bid the common herd draw nigh,
Smell, observe, witness their lords’ morass
Wherein the foulest goblins smear their lips
On carrion of innocents—forfend!--
It must not be. For who would fardels bare
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the fear of something after impeachment,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
Only Clintons may return, 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.
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Gary Corseri has taught in public schools and prisons in the U.S. , and at US and Japanese universities. His work has appeared at Dissident Voice, Redbook, Thomas Paine’s Corner, Common Dreams, Palestine Chronicle, TeleSurtv.net, CounterPunch, The New York Times, Village Voice, Prison Planet, City Lights Review, Atlanta-PBS, World Prout Assembly, etc. His books include: Manifestations (edited); Holy Grail, Holy Grail; and A Fine Excess. He can be contacted at: corseri@verizon.net.