To drink, or not to drink, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Thirst,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of kegs,
And by opposing end them: to drink, to get drunk
No more; and by a bender, 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 drink, to get drunk,
To get drunk, perchance to pass out; Aye, there's the rub,
For in that drunken state, what inappropriate behavior may come,
When we have shuffled off this better judgement,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so strong a bender:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the teetotaler takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a full keg? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of waking up naked with 200,000 Youtube views ,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No video returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus fear of our drinking buddies does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of wanting to tie one on
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Hold my beer and watch this, Y’all.