No more; and by a “vote” to say we’ll end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That greed is heir to. Is this a consummation
Devoutly to be wished? To vote, to lend;
Perchance to lose eight millions; there’s the rub;
For in this loan of ours what loss may come
Ere we would shuffle off responsibility,
There’s time to pause: there’s the respect,
That makes “annexing” fruitful of long strife;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of foes,