To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The [ ???????] and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

"Kit, what word looketh for I here? ' Tis perch'd upon my tongue's tip like a lark upon a dawn-edged twig, but for all Hyrcanian gold I cannot give it speech. "Guns" it is not, nor further "blades," and your kindly-offered "petards" I have used anon, mayhap o'ermuch. O Melpomene, muse mine, my fever'd brow with thy mist of soft words bedew... 

"Nay, nay, Kit-- "axes" it is certainly not, and a pox upon thy distraction!

"But hark! I use thee not well, patient friend and ink-sotted twin of me. Let us stanch the weary candle and to the Ox and Cupid hie; for I am told the serving man there hath a crafty way with Singapore Slings, which nectar will our tongues yet find/ the elusing word that haunts our mind.... " 

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