To sleep or not to sleep, that is the problem.
Whether 'tis nobler in the tents to suffer
The slings and bellows of outrageous chaperones
Or to take rest against a sea of troubles
And by ignoring end them.
To sleep, perchance to dream,
'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
But in that sleep what breakfasts may be missed
When we have shuffled off our wake-up calls,
Must give us pause, and makes us rather bear
Those forty winks we lose, than fly to hunger pangs
We know not of. Thus mealtime doth make
Cowards of us all, and thus the native
Resolution to sleep in gets sicklied o'er
With the pale cast of food.
(compare to the real deal Hamlet's soliloquy)