The head-ache, and the morning’s parching thirst
That drinking’s heir to;—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To drink,—to pay,—
To pay the waiter’s bill?—Ay—there’s the rub;
For in that snipe-like bill, a stop may come,
When we would shuffle off our mortal score,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes sobriety of so long date;
For who could bear to hear the glasses ring
In concert clear—the chairman’s ready toast—