To Snark or Not to Stark

To snark, or not to snark, that’s the Question:

Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer

The Slings and Arrowes of Slimy Barracuda

Or to take Armes against a Sea of Smirks,

And by opposing end them: to dish, to snark

No more; and go to sleepe, to say we end

The HEaRT-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes

That Mind is heyre too? 'Tis an entertainment

Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,

To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,

For in that Sleepe of Snark, what dreames may come,

When we haue shuffel'd off this crummy coile,

Must giue vs pawse. There's the Paradox

That makes Snarkery of our lives:

For who would beare the Whips and Snarks of time,

The Neocons wrong, the Third World’s Contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd Votes, the Congressional delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,

When he himselfe might jump off the Brooklyn

Bridge like Crane? Who would Foolishly beare

To grunt and sweat vnder a Writer’s life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The vndiscouered Snarkery Inc, from whose Borne

No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare those Pukes we haue,

Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Snarkery does make Cowards of vs all,

And thus the American grain of Revolution

Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Doubt,

And enterprizes of great pith and moment,

With this regard their Faces turne away,

And lose the name of Action.