(To compare this soliloquy to the slightly more famous one, click here to read Shakespeare's full text on Wikipedia.)
To wake, or not to wake: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to sleep in and miss the whole thing,
And by sleeping be rested? To nap: to sleep
some more; and by a sleep to say we miss
The crankiness and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to before consuming
Any coffee. To nap, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, that sounds nice;
For in that state of sleep what dreams may come?
When we have shuffled off this blanket coil
To go to work and earn respect,
We face calamity of so long days.
Who would bear the whips and scorns of bosses,
The oppressive customers, the proud Man’s contumely,
The hunger pangs of working lunches and technological delays,
The insolence of office mates and the spurns
That try one’s patience in unworthy ways
When we instead could nap in some quiet place
With footy pajamas and a teddy bear?
We grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But in our dreams in sleeping after work,
Undiscover’d countries stretch before us,
To travel as we please, experiencing the thrills
Of things we can’t do in real life
like fly, and other epic shit like that.
Thus consciousness does make cowards of us all;
And thus the nasty call of the alarm clock
Rings thickly o'er our ears and fills our thoughts,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
Drag us out of bed to start our day,
And lose the name of napping.