The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of bubbles,
And by the remote end them: too dry, to sip
No more; and by a sip, to say we pause
The movie, and the thousand battling orcs
The ring is heir to? 'Tis a plot construction
Devoutly to be wished. To pause, to pee,
To drip, perchance to stream; Aye, there's the tub,
For in that pause for breath, what scenes may come,
While we have shuffled off to liquid toil—
We must press pause. There's the prospect
That makes Calamity of so long a film:
The unflushable Country, from whose bedpan
No TV-watcher returns...
Thus Crabbies does make Cowards of us all.
2 comments:
DAD! hamletdad. hamlet cha cha cha?
Hey, I resemble that post...
(I magnified the picture, but I still can't read the medal to figure out which marathon Hamlet ran.)
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