Hamlet du fromage Soliloquy

Pissa com ç or Pissa com s: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler recauchutador in the minddagap to suffer

The slings (pneus de chuva) and arrows of outrageous fortuning respingo,

Or to take arms against a sea of ceroulas troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

Faith No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart of glass-ache and the sousand natural chockapics

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a coñosummation

Devo-utly to be wish'd. To lady die e dodi al-faied, to sleep estrebuchar;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub the teets with banha the porco;

For Escort in that sleep of death what dreams may come in your face, you bitch!

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil alandroal,

Must give us pause and then rewind and eject: there's the respect

That makes calamity of bugiganga of four so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, mete a caveira no cu ó paneleiro

The oppressor's wrong, the proud evolucion soccer man's contumely,

The pangsdeiretas of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and cavalheiro the spurns, assim plof plof plof, tipo bufa quentinha…

That patient méééééééééhhhrit of the unworthy takes 27 badalos,

When he himself might his quietusa make

With a bare bodakin? who would fardels lota pimpinella bear,

To grunt and sweat sweat sweat, like Billy Idol, under a weary life,

But that the dread ya man cool afiambrar-se e o bacano e cena e coiso of something after death metal,

The undiscover'd cunt-ry from whose bourn (ca merda de palavra.)

No traveller check e mastercard returns, puzzles the will pinhoada

And makes us, salsaparrilha, rather bear those ills weeeeeeeee have torresmo

Than fly to others that we know not of mini milk?

Thus conscience does make cow(muhhhhhhhhh)ards of us all;

And thus the native hue ca bom of resolution

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

And enterprisesemifrio of great pikatchu and moment

With this regard their cu rents turn awry mas quéisto?hum,

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

The fair Ophelia Queirós! Nymphomaníaca, in thy Roy orisons

Be all my sins re(wind selecter)member'd.

Free William Shake Shakespeare