To bid, or not to bid?... that is the question...

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous partners,

Or to take arms against a sea of doubles,

And by opposing end them?

To bid, to pass?

No more; and by a pass to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural points

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a contract

Devoutly to be wish'd. To bid, to pass?

To stall, perchance to dream: aye, there's the sub!

For in that sleep of hope what subs may come

When we have discarded off this mortal deck,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the bids and scorns of time,

The partner's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised bridge, the bid's delay,

The insolence of bidding and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy makes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a rare bidding, who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary lie,

But that the dread of something after play,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bid those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make partners of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great bids and moments

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!

The fair Partner!, in thy 'orisons may

Be all my sins remember'd!

You can always see more cards than I alone!